Rules of Etiquette
by WadeH
Summary: How do you answer a completely unanswerable proposal without losing your temper or saying anything offensive, unkind or rude? Elizabeth Bennet is about to find out in this novel that starts right after Mr. Darcy finishes speaking in the Hunsford proposal.
1. Confrontation

_A/N: Welcome back to my loyal readers and a hearty welcome to new ones!_

_We return once again to Hunsford. This is the fourth in my Propriety/Manners/Etiquette series. I've done quick romance, heavy angst, light hearted fun and now we go to frivolous. This is yet another writing experiment. I got a little enamored with the idea of thought balloons from comics, so wondered if you could do that in plain text? I started out with outlining people's thoughts as they conversed, but it didn't work that well, so I tried another tack. There is quite a lot of exposition in the style, so we will alternate between nearly all exposition and nearly all dialogue. You'll see what I mean in a couple chapters._

_This will be a novella, maybe 20-25 chapters, low angst and dare I say it… even a bit frivolous… well scratch that, it's downright frivolous. I even have a genuine ball! I've done assemblies before, but not a London ball._

_Not to be to spoilerish or anything, but everybody knows I love a good setdown, and this will be one for the ages. Strap yourself in for the worst verbal thrashing ever written. You think Circles was tough… wait to see what Lizzy says this time but try not to let it distress you too much. After all, Lizzy is a lady and always follows the Rules of Etiquette to the letter._

_Wade_

* * *

_Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. He spoke well; but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed; and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority-of its being a degradation-of the family obstacles which had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit. __P&P Chapter 34_

* * *

≈ _If you cannot say something nice, say nothing at all! _≈

Elizabeth Bennet sat staring at the man in front of her in a state of complete perplexity. What had she just heard? It was the oddest and most unexpected thing. Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire had just delivered a speech using love and matrimony as bookends on a shelf otherwise filled with insult and derision practically to the ceiling.

Was it possible for the lone little affectionate bookends to contain the insults without the entire edifice crashing down in ruin? Was the floor of the parsonage even sufficient for the task once the shelf collapsed? It seemed unlikely. Was this proposal even worse than Mr. Collins'? At least Mr. Collins had stupidity in his favor, so one could argue he knew no better; but Mr. Darcy was a man of sense and education. Was she just supposed to _ignore_ the fact that he had interfered in her most beloved sister's affections, or perhaps he just believed she did not know nor would she ever? Was she supposed to _enjoy_ the idea of being a _degradation_? How exactly did being a degradation advance her supposed suit?

_≈ If you cannot be pleasant, at least be silent! ≈_

Elizabeth tried to say something… anything, but every time she opened her mouth, she saw a surprisingly realistic vision of her mother standing next to Mr. Darcy, shaking the infamous Fanny Bennet finger and giving her yet another bit of motherly 'advice'.

≈ _A true lady is polite and demure under all provocations! ≈_

Elizabeth was quite familiar with both the finger and the sentiments, as both had been directed at her nearly constantly, day in and day out for the past decade. In fact, she had always at times of stress remembered people advising her, and she almost always saw the actual conversation. She had no idea if such things were remembrances or hallucinations, but since the advice was sometimes useful she had never concerned herself with it.

≈ _A lady does not raise her voice, nor say unkind or impertinent things! ≈_

Mrs. Bennet's censure was quite familiar, but rarely applied to Elizabeth's sisters. Jane was too serene, beautiful and perfect; Lydia was so much like her mother she could do no wrong; and Elizabeth doubted her mother was even aware Kitty and Mary were her daughters in anything other than a vague way. Despite Mrs. Bennet's almost complete lack of decorum or propriety in her own manner, she delighted in endlessly _instructing_ her least favorite daughter on the subject.

Mrs. Bennet was vexed that Elizabeth had turned down a most eligible match with Mr. Collins four months past, and had also convinced herself that Elizabeth was responsible for Mr. Bingley's defection… somehow?

The young lady's current conundrum was nearly unfathomable. To be entirely bereft of words was nearly unprecedented. To be replaying _her mother's_ words over and over was only slightly less so. In fact, paying the slightest attention to Mrs. Bennet's ramblings was rare, as ignoring the matron's effusions was a basic survival mechanism at Longbourn.

≈ _If you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head, at least keep a silent one! ≈_

She tried once again to speak, but nothing came out. Once, twice, thrice she tried again and again; but every time she opened her mouth to say something, her mother chastised her yet again, while Mr. Darcy just sat looking on apparently in breathless anticipation.

≈ _You __will__ accept this or __any__ proposal, you foolish headstrong girl, or I will never speak to you again. ≈_

That promise had turned out to be empty, as her mother had been chastising her nearly constantly these four months since the rejection of her first insulting proposal. Apparently, the term _'never speak to you again'_ was more figurative than literal.

Once again, she opened her mouth to speak a polite refusal, but remembered that scheme had _not_ gone _at all_ well on the previous proposal. This time she did not have even the dubious protection of her father; being currently under the supposed authority of her odious cousin, whose head might explode if he had to contend with a difference of opinion between the formidable Mr. Darcy and his esteemed patroness. There was little doubt where Elizabeth's opinion on this or any other subject would count for him or anyone else in Kent should the two of them be in dispute.

The young lady was to reach her age of majority in six weeks and wanted no complications before that. The believed that most _reasonable_ people would agree that _being betrothed _could well be considered a_ complication_. She did not have a strong belief that Mr. Collins or her father would force her into a marriage but did not want to wager the rest of her life on it, considering how consistently unreliable and arbitrary both men were.

In fact, Mr. Darcy's very presence unchaperoned in the parsonage could well be considered a compromise and could be yet another tool that could force her into an unwanted marriage. She would _not_ like to be on the end of Lady Catherine's tongue should that idea take hold! She could not even fathom the idea of being introduced as a niece at Rosings. It would be incomprehensible!

Mr. Darcy was obviously much smarter than Mr. Collins; as truth be told, almost anyone was. Mr. Darcy had even demonstrated that on some occasions he could speak in complete English sentences that occasionally even made sense… in a Darcy sort of way. He truly was a man of sense and education in everything except manners and agreeableness and amiability and kindness and generosity and basic good sense. Even those had _occasionally_ been displayed at Netherfield, so he at least understood the basic concepts.

He did however have a look of stubbornness about him, and per the Colonel, he was a man who liked to arrange his affairs to his liking. Mr. Darcy had also told her personally at Netherfield that he was a man of implacable resentment - or in his own word, his temper was _too little yielding. His good opinion once lost was lost forever. _He was clearly not accustomed to being denied anything; and seemed quite capable of _at least_ as much stubborn willfulness as Mr. Collins, but his stubbornness would be _much_ harder to counter than her cousin. Instead of four sisters listening at the door, the nearest person who could assist her was a half‑mile away at Rosings.

Mr. Darcy obviously had no idea that there were even two possible answers to his question; and Elizabeth was not presently inclined towards inciting his wrath or testing his stubbornness. What if he carried on as Mr. Collins had? What if he rejected her refusal or became angry or despondent? What if he became loud and angry - It was a distinct possibility? What if he picked her up and dragged her off to Gretna Green, or worse yet tasked Lady Catherine or her cousin with wearing down her resistance? _What if Charlotte weighed in on what a supposedly eligible match it was?_

_≈ Think of your mother! Think of your sisters! It is __your duty__ to save us from the hedgerows! ≈_

Once again, she opened her mouth for a polite refusal, or a rude refusal, or an acceptance, or a delay, or a courtship, or even to ask some type of clarifying question, but once again nothing came out. Not a peep. Not a whisper.

≈ _For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn? ≈_

Having her father standing next to Mr. Darcy was something of an improvement over her mother, but he was singularly unhelpful. Who should she be making sport of? Mr. Darcy? The Colonel? Lady Catherine? Charlotte? At this very moment, none of their positions held any more sport than she herself was presenting - and she was not particularly enjoying being on the receiving end of _sport_.

≈ _Better to keep silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. ≈_

Two proposals in four months was entirely too many. When it came to insulting proposals, she firmly believed that a little goes a long way. She actually started wondering if her father had ever had anything sensible to say in his life, since his advice now mirrored her mother's.

≈ **_TEEEEEEN THOUOUOUOUSSSSAND A YEAR AND POSSIBLY MOOOOOORE_**_! ≈_

Mrs. Bennet was back with a vengeance! Her spectral form was apparently no more pleased with being spoken over by Mr. Bennet than her corporeal form was. That recollection and many more like it filled her with mortification. Was that how a man was to be measured, by his purse? Somehow, Mr. Darcy had _heard_ that at the Netherfield Ball, yet he was still here making his addresses. It was unfathomable. He could not possibly really esteem her unless he was the most inscrutable man that ever lived. He must be worse than Jane by a wide margin, and nobody but Elizabeth and Charlotte understood Jane… and even their understanding was rudimentary at best.

Elizabeth was adrift in an endless sea of voices rattling around in her head as her level of panic escalated and escalated until she began to feel dizzy and even a touch faint, so much so that she had to grab the edge of a chair to hold herself up. She kept seeing flashes of her family, Mr. Darcy, the Colonel, and Lady Catherine without end, as if everyone she knew was in the room shouting at her to just accept a life of riches and luxury and quit worrying about trivialities like whether or not she and her husband could stand each other's company.

≈ _Lizzy, a lady should show __more__ affection than she feels until she fixes his attention! ≈_

Apparently, even sensible and practical Charlotte's ghost needed her share of the conversation, although it turned out you could accomplish the same goal by showing him not the slightest affection whatsoever, and even veiled derision and endless arguments seemed to be effective in bringing a suitor to the point. Could she have sped this process up by hitting him with a club or poisoning him while he was at Netherfield? Would Lady Catherine and her words of wisdom be next?

Panicking, Elizabeth reached around for something, anything, that she could use to tell her what to say, what to do and how to act. Like a drowning woman, she thrashed around aimlessly until she finally, desperately, latched on to the first passing bit of flotsam that drifted by and paused long enough for her to get ahold of it. She was so happy to have an answer that she did so without evaluating its merits against the rest. She then did the most unthinkably shocking thing she had ever done in her life: _She took her mother's advice__!_

≈ **_Well, Miss Lizzy Bennet_**_! If you cannot say something nice, say nothing at all and take yourself elsewhere until you learn to keep a civil tongue in your head! ≈_

Having chosen her admittedly weak device, she clung to it for dear life. Elizabeth walked to the door of the parlor and opened it.

Mr. Darcy stood looking at her in confusion, torn between his _finally_ being able to look at the woman of his dreams in open admiration, the relief of finally unburdening his heart, finally removing all doubts about the match; and utter confusion at her _most peculiar_ way of accepting his suit.

While he stood in confusion, the love of his life walked to the hallway, quickly donned her pelisse, stuffed her bonnet unceremoniously on her head, picked up her reticle and walked out the front door. Within five paces she was trotting, and within ten she had hitched up her skirt and was running. By the time the utterly confused Fitzwilliam Darcy became alarmed and started after her, she was rounding the corner out of sight, towards the village.

Pausing to take his coat and hat, he started running after her, but after only a few steps slowed down. A gentlewoman running towards the village with skirts hiked and flying would excite gossip if she were seen. It would be slightly injurious to her reputation, but not fatal and easily explained. A woman _running through the lanes being chased by a gentleman_ would incite more than gossip. It would incite scandal at the very least. A likelier outcome would a thrashing by worrisome shopkeepers, a quick trip to the parson's noose; or both. With this in mind, he slowed his pace, and while not sedate, he followed the lady as quickly as he could without appearing to be another lunatic.

By the time Darcy got to the corner where he had last seen her, there was a break in the path. One branch lead to a very nicely secluded grove that he suspected his Lizzy had already discovered and loved; and the other went to the village. Unable to believe she ran to the village, he took the path to the grove and spent a good quarter hour scouring the path for her with nothing to show for his efforts. He presumed she must have been overcome by the proposal, and he wanted to set her mind at ease.

Moving from concern to alarm as the minutes ticked by, he decided running was not nearly so bad as previously believed, especially since he would not be chasing a woman through the lanes. Ten minutes of running deposited the man in the middle of Hunsford village, just barely in time to catch a glimpse of the post coach leaving the stage stop with Elizabeth Bennet inside, her head down, not looking out the window or at anything. He was afforded only a glimpse of her bonnet from the side, sitting with what appeared to be at least two matrons opposite her in the coach.

What could possibly be happening here? Of all the possible reactions to his proposal, this would have been the last he would expect. To tell the absolute unvarnished truth, he had to admit that anything other than a polite acceptance or her jumping into his arms would have been the last thing he expected.

In great confusion, he thought there must be something afoot here; although explaining it seemed to be quite beyond his capacity. Was she afraid of the wrath of Lacy Catherine or her father? Was she intimidated by the idea of joining the first circles? Was she already betrothed in secret? Was she overwhelmed by his wealth and status_? Did she doubt his affection? Was it possible she did not feel affection for him? Was there something inadequate in the proposal? _

Those last few thoughts caused him to abruptly stop mid-step and nearly fall over, while reconsidering _everything_ he had said in his ill-fated proposal. A minute later with a very ungentlemanly exclamation of "BLAST AND DAMN AND BLOODY FESTERING BOLLOCKS", he turned around and started running back toward Rosings.


	2. Escape

"Blast"

Elizabeth gasped in mortification and turned bright red at the first word she had spoken since the horror of the proposal. Despite her mother's opinion that she was the very worst hoyden in the family for five generations at least, she had never once in her life cursed in public. She only hoped nobody had heard but felt that being in the middle of a dozen people in the stage stop at Bromley, that was probably being optimistic.

She was frustrated with herself and her own stupidity, and most vexed with Mr. Darcy for putting her in this position. She _must_ have had some lady-like words in her vocabulary somewhere; and rejecting proposals should be quite easy for her, since she had so much practice.

≈ _Practice makes perfect young lady! You will never become a lady if you spend all your time with books or wandering about the forest like some kind of woodcutter! ≈_

Now, she was standing in a stage stop, and the fifth counting of the money in her reticule had not produced a different result than the first four. She had neither enough money to make it to Cheapside, or even to London for that matter; nor enough to return to Hunsford; even should she be inclined to do so; which she was not. With dark fast approaching, her options were limited, and she had not the vaguest idea how to escape this trap of her own making.

≈ _Stupid… Stupid… Stupid… Stupid… Stupid… Stupid… Stupid… Stupid… Stupid… Stupid… ≈_

Apparently, she had dug herself a hole deep enough for even Lydia to comprehend it. Elizabeth was quite certain she could not even fault Lydia with acting so precipitously. At least Lydia did not pretend to any particular level of sense. Of course, Lydia could not imagine that there were two or more possible answers to a proposal, so she would certainly never be in this position anyway. Lydia would already be shopping for wedding clothes.

"Papa, you must help this young lady!"

Elizabeth startled and glanced over at a young well-dressed lady, who was looking at her cautiously. The young lady was around Kitty's age, with perhaps sixteen or seventeen years, and she was looking at Lizzy intently, though trying to be polite. Elizabeth's mortification was now complete, as she had shown both her own stupidity, and her vulgar manners to complete strangers.

A kindly looking gentleman followed the young girl's gaze to Elizabeth and saw that she had her reticule in one hand, a few coins in the other, and a look of distress on her face.

"Naturally, we will offer assistance. Might you introduce me to your acquaintance, Margaret?"

The young girl blushed at having impertinently interfered in the affairs of someone wholly unknown to her, but Elizabeth could at least smooth this breach.

"I am afraid we have not been properly introduced, but since we have no common acquaintances, I shall introduce myself. I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire and very pleased to make your acquaintance."

She followed this with a curtsey appropriate to the situation. She simultaneously gave the young girl a genuine smile and showed that she appreciated her kindness and was not offended by any feared breach of manners or propriety - as if any sister of Lydia Bennet could be concerned about such a tiny infraction.

"I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet. I am Miss Margaret Wythe." The young lady gave an elegant curtsey of her own and tried to maintain the polite disinterest appropriate to the situation but was not up to the task. She broke out in a huge grin and came out of the curtsey practically bouncing on her toes. Far from finding her exuberance troubling, Elizabeth returned the young lady's smile with one of her own.

"Miss Bennet, may I present to your acquaintance my father, Mr. George Wythe, and my mother Mrs. Dorothy Wythe."

Bows and curtsies were exchanged all around, and Elizabeth suspected she could see where Margaret's humor came from, as neither of the parents seemed to stand on ceremony either.

With a twinkle in his eye and a kindly fatherly expression, Mr. Wythe asked, "Please do not be offended by our interference, but I believe my Margaret may have the right of it. Are you in need of assistance, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth still felt quite foolish, but when you came right down to it, any day that started with taking her mother's advice could only improve.

Blushing slightly, she replied, "Yes sir, I foolishly both bought the incorrect ticket and brought insufficient funds for my journey. I confess I left my previous situation in somewhat of a hurry. I am usually not such a flibbertigibbet."

"And where are you traveling to, Miss? We would be more than happy to assist you."

Despite her embarrassment, Elizabeth was not silly enough to refuse assistance when offered, and said, "I travel to my uncle's house on Gracechurch Street in Cheapside. If you might assist me, he will be happy to reimburse you."

"And are you traveling alone?"

This question embarrassed her, as it was at the very least ill-advised to travel alone and unprotected, but there was nothing for it but to admit the truth. "Yes sir, I am."

Mr. Wythe seemed concerned for her safety, but not particularly scandalized, nor very inclined to pry into her affairs. He offered, "If you will accept our company, we will gladly see you safely delivered to your uncle's home, Miss Bennet; or lend you the money for fare if that is your preference."

Elizabeth's effusions of gratitude were numerous, and long-lasting, to the point where she began to feel she was resembling either her mother or Mr. Collins entirely too much. Fortunately, the Wythes were amiable and did their best to relieve her anxiety. Margaret, in a very endearing and Lydia-like display was literally jumping up and down on the balls of her feet and clapping her hands, quite happy to have a new friend for the few hours remaining to London.

The relief of having her own stupidity being corrected with so little effort and expense made her quite forget for a few moments exactly who and what she was running from; and Elizabeth was certainly not up to any questions of why.

"Would you care for some refreshments, Miss Bennet? My horses are being cared for, and we have a bit of time before we can leave."

"I would be honored, Sir."

Elizabeth spent the next half hour getting to know the Wythes in general, and Margaret in particular. They proved to be fashionable, intelligent, well-read, good conversationists and everything amiable. Mr. Wythe was a wool broker, and his home was only a mile or two from Gracechurch street, so delivering her would be no trouble at all.

_≈ Try not to run off and forget people who may be worried about you my girl. ≈_

Elizabeth was enjoying the conversation when she suddenly, and quite belatedly thought that Charlotte would be in a panic when she came back to the parsonage.

Mr. Wythe saw the sudden look of concern, and she had to sheepishly admit her problem to him. She was just thinking she might have to reverse her decision and borrow some money to return to the parsonage, but her host simply laughed at a problem so easily solved and tasked an express rider who was just sitting down to a pint to deliver a note.

Elizabeth had to think carefully about what she could and should say. Honesty was obviously not to be the coin of the realm that day, but she at least hoped Charlotte would be able to keep her husband from panicking, and to someday forgive her for putting her in such an awkward position. Fortunately, long association had her convinced Charlotte could do nearly anything she set her mind to.

With the note written and dispatched, and the Wythes, much to her surprise, finding the situation a bit humorous, they left for London a few minutes later. It was not an hour into the trip before Margaret began her campaign to get Lizzy to defer her visit to her uncle's house and stay with them instead.

Elizabeth could see that the young lady was well‑aware of how forward the suggestion was; but nevertheless, she was steady to her purpose, but scrupulously polite about it.

Elizabeth had to admire that, having been accused of forwardness, impertinence and stubbornness on more than one occasion, she was not feeling particularly put out by it. The parents gave every indication of approving the scheme.

This surprised Elizabeth at first until she thought of reversing the tables and reckoned her parents would likely do the same, if they even noticed one extra girl among the rabble of her sisters.

More seriously, Elizabeth started to give the suggestion due consideration. She was trying to imagine her arrival at her uncle's house a fortnight early, sans luggage, and the required explanations that would go along with said arrival. She really had no concerns about explaining yourself to her uncle and aunt, as they were the most perfect people she knew, and they would get along famously with the Wythes.

However, explaining herself to the rest of her family seemed like it would be nigh on impossible, and asking her uncle to keep her from her meddling mother for six weeks would be well beyond the bounds of what she could demand of her favorite relatives.

Elizabeth came slowly to the realization, that returning to Gracechurch street would put her aunt and uncle in quite an uncomfortable and precarious position. Good manners and breeding, nay, even just basic character would demand that they tell her parents of her concerns, with precisely predictable results.

Elizabeth imagined the flurry of letters that must go back and forth between Gracechurch Street and Longbourn were likely to cause screeching and fluttering and questions she had not the slightest wish to answer, or even have asked. With just over six weeks before her age of majority, there was still some chance she might be forced into a marriage. Her father had protected her from Mr. Collins, but she was not entirely certain he had the fortitude to protect her from the combined onslaught of Mr. Darcy and her mother if that gentleman pressed his suit with any vigor.

Elizabeth was in no humor to have the rest of her life dictated to her when only a few weeks away from relative freedom. Of course, she was not _entirely_ stupid. She well knew that _relative freedom _meant the _freedom to be poor as a rat and probably end up as a governess or servant_, but still, she could not marry a man who was going to look down on her for the rest of her life. She had seen quite enough of that for one lifetime, thank you very much! She had no illusions that she was either as resilient, or as desperate as Charlotte; and the idea of reliving her own mother's nightmare of existence sent shivers down her spine.

With these thoughts circling her mind, she started formulating a plan. Her plan was devious, impolite, bad mannered, impertinent, ill‑advised, unlikely to succeed and otherwise had nothing whatsoever to recommend it; but the same could be said for most of the war office's decisions for the war on the continent. She resolved that just for once she might try to take some control over her own life. She had been passive entirely too long.

_≈ Sometimes Lizzy, opportunity will knock. Some say it only knocks once, but that is not true. It may knock any number of times, but each time you fail to open the door, is one less time that you can take advantage of it. ≈_

Seeing a familiar vision of her grandmother who loved to stitch parables on samplers filled Elizabeth with a bit of comfort for times past, and the advice seemed timely.

Mr. and Mrs. Wythe went out of their way to explain that they would be more than happy to host her should she have appropriate permissions, beginning that very night. Elizabeth explained that she did not even have any clothing with her, and such was waved off as of no importance. Elizabeth and Margaret were of similar sizes, and it was obvious that no great effort would be required to have her similarly dressed.

Margaret was fascinated by the fact that Elizabeth had four sisters and was very excited that she might be able to borrow a sister, even if only for a month. Lending Elizabeth dresses would be much more a privilege than a chore.

Margaret was only recently returned from school and the Wythes had moved houses a few months past, so she had no close friends nearby at all. The entire family was surprisingly short on nosiness about what caused Elizabeth to be in this predicament. Margaret's parents assumed there was a man involved somewhere and it would sort itself out sooner or later, but they liked the young lady so were disinclined to pry. Margaret was so happy to have a new friend, she never gave it a second thought.

Elizabeth knew that she had just lit a fuse on a powder keg, the fuse would be short, and the explosion large; but she _needed_ some time to think and plan. Her second refusal was _not_ going to go down well, and she felt that perhaps Mr. Collins might be right. This could very well be her last proposal of marriage… or not… since she seemed to be attracting around three per annum at present.

Either way, she was not of a mind to be forced into anything. She might regret that choice later when life became difficult, which might be sooner than she would like, but she _just could not do it_. She knew she did not have the strength to spend a lifetime trying to get the attention of a man who did not respect her. What happened when his ill-advised infatuation with her wore off, as it must sooner or later? What happened when he started being annoyed by her impertinence or her opinions opposed his?what would happen when his friends in the first circles looked down on his wife with disdain?

She began to wonder if the offer was even still open. What happened when a proposal was not answered? Was this covered in the rules of propriety? Just how bad-mannered was she walking out on a man who had just proposed marriage? Was the offer considered open until an answer is given? Was lack of a 'yes' construed as a 'no'; or worse yet, was a lack of a 'no' to be considered a 'yes'? How long before the offer was considered retracted or accepted without an explicit answer? Elizabeth had no idea, but needed time, idle chatter and deep reflection to work it out. None of those seemed likely at Gracechurch Street or Longbourn. She could _not_ keep such a thing from Jane or her aunt, and if her mother got a whiff of the idea, she would pack her off to Pemberley within the week.

After some consideration, she answered her host's question.

"I would be most happy to accept your generous offer, if you are certain it would be no bother. I would be very much distressed to be the cause of any difficulties."

Margaret squealed in delight, and the Wythes smiled in indulgence. They spent the rest of the trip discussing the particulars of how the visit could be arranged without Elizabeth actually visiting Gracechurch Street; which she was not very inclined to do, since that would defeat the entire purpose of the scheme.

Elizabeth planned to write to Jane once the die was cast and there was no turning back, but she just could _not_ make herself do it now. She could not let a single person know she was running from a proposal from one of the richest men in England… she just could not… even to Jane.

Elizabeth assured the Wythes that a few notes would suffice and further assured them that she had sufficient funds to pay back any expense after the journey, which idea was soundly rejected by the parents. She was to be their guest, and kindly refrain from any further attempts to curtail them in this matter.

The only fly in the porridge was that they would only be in town for a bit less than a week before another journey, so she would need to get permission to travel with them, or she would need to return to Gracechurch Street when they left.

Mr. Wythe explained the trip.

"I need to visit some estates to secure the purchase of wool. This is the shearing season. We have been visiting some estates this last fortnight, and we have some more to do in the next trip. I like to take the entire family and the journey takes six weeks complete, with plenty of time for sightseeing. I visit the flocks, oversee some of the shearing, negotiate some contracts for next year; and we have days to devote to our other amusements."

Elizabeth could not believe the fortuitousness of this, with the perfect situation practically falling on her lap. She did not deserve her luck, but she would take it. All she need do was obtain permission, which would require the _tiniest bit of finesse_, but could be managed. Perhaps, sometime during the trip she would manage to work out how to let Mr. Darcy down gently, or perhaps simply waiting a month or more to answer would solve the problem with no answer required.

≈ _Lizzy, many of life's little problems just go away if you simply ignore them, so it is best not to panic and overreact. ≈_

She was a little bit downcast to find she was contemplating following the worst of her father's advice, hard on the heels of her mother's. They would never again be able to claim she was not a dutiful daughter after this.

To both distract herself, and keep up the conversation required by basic civility, Elizabeth asked, "And where, pray tell is this journey to take us?"

The Wythes all looked smug and happy, and said, "We are going to the most wonderful county. I believe you will love its wild and untamed beauty. We shall be visiting several grand estates in Derbyshire."

Elizabeth tried her best not to show her shock and consternation, but after a moment she began to think better of the scheme. In Derbyshire, perhaps she could learn something about the gentleman without the inconvenience of putting up with the man himself. If she could ascertain more details of his bad character, she would be able to return to Longbourn completely justified in her refusal. If she were very lucky, she might even be able to learn enough about the gentleman to ascertain why he was so clearly insane. Perhaps it was a congenital malady. Yes, Derbyshire should do very well for a destination.

Fully cognizant of the great fortune that seemed to be raining on her head, she replied, "I am honored and quite pleased to be invited, and if you are still certain, I will make arrangements straightaway."

All in the coach expressed satisfaction with the scheme and were in fact quite a happy lot when they entered their own neighborhood.

Elizabeth penned several vague and _slightly_ misleading notes to Gracechurch Street, Longbourn and Hunsford. She took the added expense of writing Charlotte express again, since she would be worried to death when Elizabeth did not appear. Worse yet, Mr. Darcy might have reported her absence which would cause questions that should not be asked or answered; although something told her that Mr. Darcy would probably keep his own council. He would certainly exert every possible effort to hide what actually happened. What man with even a modicum of pride or good sense would tell _anyone_ that a woman ran from a proposal? No, in the end she thought she was quite safe from detection by Mr. Darcy's friends, so she need only let Charlotte know that all was well and trust her to keep her husband and Lady Catherine in line. She well remembered Charlotte could make up stories for hours at a time, and she had no real compunctions about managing her husband.

Her correspondence complete, Elizabeth retired to Margaret's room for many hours of excited chatter and few hours of sleep.


	3. Pursuit

_A/N: Short chapter today. I want to thank everyone who has been leaving the lovely reviews. As usual, I very much enjoy it when you guys guess what's going to happen. I manage to answer some of them here and there, but not all, but I do read and enjoy each one. _

_In the sausage making category, I can tell you that this was the __first__ of the Propriety series to get written down, even before it was called the Propriety series. I got my interest in manners and this new writing style at about the same time. I've had at least rough drafts for about the first 12 chapters for well over a year, but finally started moving forward. _

_I won't be posting at an insane rate, but I expect this to finish about 25 chapters within the month. I know the entire rest of the story, so don't expect any big surprises (at least nothing that will surprise me). _

_I do have some new characters coming up, a couple borrowed from other works, and what I believe is another FIRST in JAFF coming in chapter 11. You'll know it when you see it. Wade_

* * *

About halfway between Hunsford Village and Rosings, Darcy stopped running. He did this for a few reasons. He did _not_ want to start any rumors or gossip or anything else that might get the inhabitants of Rosings involved in his or Elizabeth's affairs, nor take any chance of damaging her reputation. He also had his dignity to think about. Running was most unseemly and would generally be considered bad manners. In the back of his mind, he might also sheepishly admit it _could_ be related to the fact that he was sweating like a pig, breathing like a racehorse and about to collapse. He was not really an athlete, and it was apparently easier to cover a few miles on horseback than running. Either way, by the time he got back to Rosings, he was more‑or‑less back under reasonable regulation; at least in body. His spirit, on the other hand, was battered and bruised. His pride was best not evaluated.

As he approached Rosings, he saw a vision of his father giving him possibly his best piece of advice.

≈ _Son, you need to be strong and resolute, but sometimes you will need help and there is no shame in seeking it out. ≈_

Darcy ascertained that he was going to require some assistance if he was to maintain any type of silence regarding the events of the day, or avoid any panic over the sudden absence of Miss Elizabeth. This would require help from both the Colonel and Mrs. Collins, and it must be done before the lady's absence was noted. Mrs. Collins would no doubt be worried to death by her friend's absence from her home. He hoped she would write to tell her friend a convincing narrative, but even if she did that express from London, the message would not appear until quite late, and there was no guarantee she would be able to afford an express with the money she happened to have in her reticle.

Not in the least ready to face his aunt just now, or perhaps ever again, Darcy used his intimate knowledge of Rosings gained over many summertime visits to advantage. He went around the back and entered through a side entrance so inconvenient it was not even used by servants. He used the time‑honored route he had worked out with his Fitzwilliam cousins to avoid their aunt. He traveled through a series of seldom used servant's halls and stairways, to eventually work his way to the side of the parlor, where he could not be seen from his aunt's usual throne.

He carefully maneuvered around to where the colonel alone could see him and waited to be noticed. When he had his cousin's attention, he signaled the man to extract himself from present company for a clandestine meeting. When the Colonel exited the room, Darcy quickly dragged him into a small unused storage room just below the staircase.

"What is this about Darcy?"

The colonel did not appear unduly concerned by Darcy's odd behavior, as he was rarely unduly concerned about much of anything.

Darcy took a breath and said, "Miss Bennet."

Before he could say anything more, he heard a feminine voice say, "Darcy, I wish you would just go to the parsonage to propose to her and get it over with before you drive me mad! Are you a man or a mouse?"

Darcy jumped, as he always did when his cousin Anne sneaked up on him. She was like a ghost and had been doing it since childhood. Darcy never quite got used to it. Of course, Anne was short on amusement in general, so he was not about to suspend any pleasure of hers, even if he could manage to detect her, which he really could not, so it was a bit of a moot point anyway.

He looked at Anne and asked, "Hello Anne, thank you for joining our little tête-à-tête without an invitation.

Ann naturally snorted, then laughed at him for another minute and said, "Avoiding the question, are we, cousin? When are you going to start acting like a grown man and go make your addresses?"

Trying to regain the upper hand, Darcy asked, "What makes you think I am planning to propose?"

Naturally, that question earned him two snorts, and two cousins laughing at him. Anne at least did not slap her knees like the Colonel, but she looked like she was considering it.

Feeling like he was losing control of the situation, Darcy blurted out, "I just did."

Colonel Fitzwilliam's backslap nearly dislodged some teeth, which would have been disconcerting enough, but Anne was dancing around the room like a ballerina, smiling and laughing.

It took several moments to get them calmed down, and before Darcy could say anything, Anne asked, "So when can we wish you joy?"

Looking sheepish, Darcy said, "I do not know!"

Both cousins stopped their antics, and asked at the same time, "What do you mean, you do not know? Do you have to speak with her father? Does she need time for a less er… subtle… er… less… confusing… courtship?"

"I have no answer"

Anne smiled as if the sun had just painted a rainbow in the middle of the room and said, "_I KNEW I LIKED HER!_ She is making you sweat a little, is she? Yes, she will do very nicely! That might do you some good. When did she promise an answer?"

Both cousins stared at him most disconcertingly, and he finally sheepishly said, "I do not know?"

Shocked, Fitzwilliam asked, "Did she deny you?"

"No"

Anne asked, "Did she speak of some conditions you must meet?"

"No"

The Colonel scratched his head, then shook it and asked, "What exactly _did_ she say?"

Darcy stared at his boots and said, "_Nothing_."

"**Nothing?**"

"Nothing!"

He paused, sighed, ran his hand through his already messy hair and continued in a whisper, "_Not a single word._"

Now both cousins were looking even more confused, so he was forced to relate the entirety of the humiliating experience, from the first to the last.

When the tale was done, he looked to them for sympathy, but Anne simply walked up to him, rapped him sharply three or four times on the forehead with her knuckles, which hurt more than he would have thought, while she just kept saying, "Stupid, Stupid, Stupid man!"

He nodded his head, and said, "You are correct. I am an abominably stupid man, but I love her. I will not give up easily, even though I believe my pride and stupidity have been my downfall."

Fitzwilliam said, "Naturally _we_ will not. I assume your trunks are being packed as we speak?"

"You assume correctly."

The Colonel asked, "Why are you still here?"

Now it was Darcy's turn to wonder about his cousin's level of sense, and said, "Do you suppose Mrs. Collins will be sanguine about her guest just disappearing during afternoon tea?"

Fitzwilliam actually shuddered, and said, "You are correct, you must talk to Mrs. Collins."

Darcy said, "I was hoping you might do it."

The colonel snorted and said, "Not on your life, I'm afraid of her."

Darcy just raised an eyebrow, and Anne said, "I know you're in a panic William, but you cannot leave today or tomorrow."

Darcy asked, "Why not?"

She rapped his head a couple more times and said, "Think about it lunkhead. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet mysteriously disappear from Rosings the same day within hours of each other! If you do that, you may as well have just abducted her and dragged her off to Gretna Green. The effect would be the same, except instead of just disliking you, she will hate you until five years after the end of time."

Darcy had not even thought of that, and sheepishly had to nod his head in acquiescence.

She took his arm and said, "Go take a bath William… quickly. Come back to tea before Mother throws a fit. I will talk to Mrs. Collins quietly and then send Mrs. Jenkinson to hire an express rider to ride around in a circle with a fake note for you with some urgent business, and we will leave the day after tomorrow. That will disconnect our leaving from hers and give us a day to arrange matters. I daresay Mrs. Collins can handle her husband and my mother if we give her something to work with. She's about twice as smart as the two of you combined."

Darcy said, "What do you mean, 'we'?"

Anne said, "Truly William, after today I wonder that you understand the King's English at all. It is no wonder you scared poor Miss Bennet off! 'We' means you and I, plus I imagine we need to take your counterpart here with us."

Darcy just shook his head, and said, "All right, but you might expect wedding clothes in your chamber when you return. It will be difficult to explain you are not betrothed at the end of this."

Anne said, "Who said I would not be betrothed? You are not the only man in the world Fitzwilliam Darcy… just the silliest and the most besotted."

She reached up and ran her hand across his cheek in a bit of a cousinly caress, which all things considered was a substantial improvement over rapping his forehead with her knuckles again.


	4. Finesse

_Mrs. Charlotte Collins  
Hunsford Parsonage, Kent_

_My Dearest Charlotte,_

_I must beg your forgiveness my dear friend for leaving without a note, but it could not be helped. I was away from the usual expected place, when I received some intelligence that was distressing enough to make it imperative that I was needed immediately in Town. I had very little time to catch the post with a matron of my acquaintance as chaperone, so I took the chance and wrote you at my first opportunity. I know this was unconscionably rude and I hope you were not unduly distressed. I pray that you may forgive me when I have opportunity to explain. _

_If all went well, I should hope you have only lately returned from Rosings, and I will explain in more detail as soon as I might, but for the moment I must be off. Please assure your husband and Maria that all is well; but I simply had some urgent business to attend to. I always wanted to say that since men seem to use that phrase anytime they want to excuse their absence from something they would prefer to avoid: and this time, it is even true._

_Do not worry. I am not injured, or distressed, nor has anything terrible happened. You do not even know the people involved, as they are recent acquaintances, not from Hertfordshire. I assure you that nothing short of the most urgent need would have driven me to this level of incivility, but the matter is not one to cause any real distress. It just needs to be dealt with in a timely manner._

_With deepest apologies,_

_Lizzy_

* * *

_Mr. Edwin Gardiner and Mrs. Madeline Gardiner,  
Gracechurch Street, Cheapside_

_Dear Uncle Gardiner,_

_All is well with here in my present location, but I wish to acquaint you with some news that is quite exciting. I have made a new acquaintance, a family much like yours in the wool trade. They are everything wonderful and remind me so much of you and Aunt. The gentleman is a wool broker and deals much in wools from the north country._

_I have become a particular friend of their daughter Margaret, who is around Kitty's age, although as unlike Lydia or Kitty as it is possible to be whilst still belonging to the female sex. She has no brothers or sisters and has taken quite a shine to the idea of having a surrogate sister for a time._

_The family has very generously offered to take me on a journey with them which leaves in just less than a week, and travels for six weeks through several northern counties. It may be like the tour of the lakes we have occasionally discussed. They may even have business near Lambton, which I will visit should I have opportunity._

_I cannot possibly impose upon you for permission for such a large change to my travel plans, so I have written to Papa directly. You need not trouble yourself or worry over me, but I would beg you to share this letter with Jane, along with my regrets that I will not be seeing her for a bit longer. Presuming no objections from Papa, I will not be returning to Gracechurch Street, but will be traveling north with the family, and will henceforth return directly to Longbourn at the end of the trip._

_I am quite looking forward to the journey, and although I shall dearly miss your family and Jane's company, I do feel a bit of an obligation to Miss Margaret to share the journey with her. She is a young lady in need of a friend at this time, and it would be terribly rude to turn down such a generous offer._

_My apologies for the short notice, and please give all my love to Jane and my nieces, along with my promises that I shall write in more detail soon._

_Elizabeth_

* * *

≈ _Lizzy, much of life consists of organized lying. What is politeness and etiquette than a set of rules for lying. If you wish to tell an untruth, do it with aplomb and without flinching. Make your audience __want__ to believe you. ≈_

Elizabeth looked at the letters with grim satisfaction, although she ruefully thought she should by all rights be holding her nose from the stench they might cause, considering the amount of folderol they embodied. Her father's advice notwithstanding, it was distressing to be in this position, but no amount of second guessing had caused her to repine the journey to relative freedom. It might even prove useful to have more contacts in trade, as she was almost certain to be tossed from Longbourn when she returned, and it seemed likely Mr. Wythe might be able to find her some employment better than governess.

She sighed and read the letters one last time. Some finesse was called for, and these seemed as if they would do the job. They contained just enough information to not be alarming and did not say any _actual_ untruths; so long as you were willing to be extremely generous on the concept of lies by omission. Her father routinely omitted salient details when talking to her mother just to either reduce the level of screeching in the house or increase the level of his own amusement, so her actions were simply following his advice. What else were ghosts for if not to offer advice?

The letters, misleading as they were, would have to do! She was not about to have any complications in her life… aside from the fact that she seemed completely bereft of honesty, integrity, honor, pride or decorum. Other than that, all was well.

* * *

_Mr. Thomas Bennet  
Longbourn, near Meryton, Hertfordshire_

_Dear Papa,_

_All is well with here in my present location, but I wish to acquaint you with some news that is quite exciting. I have made a new acquaintance, a family with a daughter named Margaret who are people of great fashion and sense. They are everything wonderful and remind me so much of the Gardiners. The gentleman is a wool broker and deals much in the very finest wools from the north country._

_I have become a particular friend of their daughter Margaret, who is around Kitty's age, but very different from my sisters, predominantly in a good way. Think of a younger version of Jane who has not had the advantage of a somewhat sensible sister, nor the disadvantage of two silly ones and you would not be far from the mark._

_The family has very generously offered to take me on a journey with them which leaves in just less than a week, and travels for six weeks northward, through several northern counties. _

_The offer came quite suddenly, so I apologize for the short interval for you to reply, but I cannot imagine your objection, so I have tentatively accepted the scheme. Therefore, absent your objections via a speedy reply, I shall travel with them and return to Longbourn near the middle of June. I will of course keep you informed each step of the journey, and in the unlikely event that you should object, I will follow our original scheme and return to Gracechurch Street._

_I am quite looking forward to the journey, and although I shall dearly miss our family, I do feel a bit of an obligation to young Margaret to share the journey with her, and it would be terribly rude to turn down such a generous offer from her parents._

_Elizabeth_

* * *

Elizabeth looked at that note with even more grim satisfaction. She went to some trouble to ask Margaret to write the direction, then smear her stamp a bit, just to insure it would not be read in any timely manner, put it in the regular post for delivery two or more days hence, and considered the matter settled. Her father may or may not be angry when he eventually read it in a few weeks or months, and there may or may not be consequences for her action, but the deed was done and done for the best. Lack of refusal of permission probably did not _really_ imply permission, but why quibble about minor details.

≈ _Sometimes Lizzy, you just have to do what you have to do. Quit whining and just do it. ≈_

Elizabeth silently thanked Charlotte for her good advice, blew out the candle and went to sleep.

* * *

"You look troubled, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth startled just a bit. Margaret was in the music room practicing her harp, and Elizabeth was joining the Wythes for a short visit.

"My apologies, Mr. and Mrs. Wythe. I did not mean to disturb."

"Oh, you do not disturb us, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth looked at Mr. Wythe carefully, and he just smiled at her and carried on.

"Perhaps it would help you to discuss whatever is troubling you, Miss Bennet. Sometimes a trouble shared is a trouble halved."

Elizabeth smiled, and said, "I have a question, if you do not mind."

"We never mind a question, Dear. We may not answer, but most of the time a question hurts nothing."

Elizabeth blew out a breath, and asked, "How are you trusting me? You had known me less than two hours, and yet you have offered to take me on this wonderful journey with nary a backward glance."

Mr. Wythe asked, "Are you insinuating that you are untrustworthy, Miss Bennet"

Elizabeth looked shamed, and said, "No, I do not believe so, but I have not told you everything."

Mrs. Wythe leaned across the table and took Elizabeth's hand, and asked, "Ah, but that is the question, Miss Bennet. Have you told us _enough?_ I do not need to know more than you wish to share, Dear. It seems obvious to us that you are avoiding your home for a few weeks, but we do not believe there is any harm in you."

Mr. Wythe leaned in a bit and asked, "Let us turn the problem over, Miss Bennet. Let us make a hypothetical. Suppose you had your own reasons to avoid your father's house. Do you think you might in that case be desperate enough to take a long journey with someone you judged to be untrustworthy?"

"Of course not. I would find another way."

Mrs. Wythe squeezed her hand a bit, while Mr. Wythe took another sip of his tea before continuing.

"And is your father likely to give you trouble after this journey?"

"No, Sir. He will trust my judgement."

"Miss Bennet, you are young and a naturally trusting person. You react to a thousand clues that you probably are not even aware of. I would wager that it would take an act of Parliament to make you change your first impression of our Margaret?"

"More like an Act of God."

The Wythes laughed at that, and said, "First impressions are dangerous Miss Bennet, but most of us take them almost instantly and rarely change them. It is human nature. Some of us are blessed to have enough skill to take better measures in that first moment, and some of us study for years to learn how. It is a skill, you know. It is important to know when to reevaluate based on new information, and most people are abominably bad at it, but if you pay attention, you can often rely on that first impression."

Elizabeth just looked at him in fascination.

"I am a businessman, Miss Bennet. A bad deal, or a deal made with a dishonest man could ruin me. I have made it the study of my life to be able to make judgements, and I am rarely wrong. Have no fear, Miss Bennet. You are young and idealistic, I am old and pragmatic, and yet we both trust each other. We both came to the same conclusion. Is that not enough?"

Elizabeth smiled widely, let out a breath she did not know she was holding, and replied, "More than enough. I thank you for your counsel. It is refreshing to get good advice from people are actually still alive and in the same room."

The Wythes laughed along with her. Though they really liked the young lady, and trusted her implicitly, they had no idea what that last phrase meant.


	5. Gracechurch

_A/N: Bit of a monster chapter today. About double the usual size, but no good place to break it._

_Fun Fact: The first sentence of this story (_≈ _If you cannot say something nice, say nothing at all! _≈) pushed me over 750,000 words published. Who knows, maybe someday I'll make it to a million. Wade

* * *

≈ _Jane, I know not if this will make you feel better or worse, but I cannot contain the knowledge. I was told by Colonel Fitzwilliam that it was __Mr. Darcy__ who convinced Mr. Bingley to abandon you. I imagine his pernicious sisters had a hand in it, but the Colonel assures me Mr. Darcy was the principal architect. I am planning on having a 'headache' this afternoon to avoid going to tea at Rosings, then I will either work out a way to avoid the hated man for another two days, or more likely invent an excuse to return to Gracechurch Street early. I do not know if I should tell you this in a letter or in person; or tell you at all for that matter; but I simply cannot hold it inside any more. Mr. Bingley is a spineless worm, and Mr. Darcy is either malevolent or misinformed, but at least now we know. ≈_

Jane Bennet's relationship with her sister Elizabeth was different from that with everybody else. Whenever she received a letter from Elizabeth, she could just imagine her sister standing there talking to her. She was not particularly distressed by the fact that reading the letter brought Elizabeth's voice and expressions and impertinence to her mind so clearly that she could practically smell her perfume. Jane could perfectly well bear her sister's ghost any time Elizabeth should decide to join her. No other authors inspired that reaction, but she was always happy and comforted when she read one of her sister's letters. _At least she had been until this one!_ This letter on the other hand was not improving her mood in the least!

This letter was the culmination of several months of suspicions, speculations, guesses and heartbreak. There was ever so much more in the letter, and yet still that one paragraph was all that stuck in her mind, like Lizzy sitting there saying it over and over, but it was not as distressing as it might have seemed. To have the final confirmation was, in the end, a bit of a relief, and she was surprisingly not quite as heartbroken as she had been. There was something to be said for _finality_. Her sister's ghost was momentarily replaced by her father's, which was not very much of a comfort, but his words, while not particularly amiable, at least showed his character.

≈ _Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction among her companions. ≈_

Her father perhaps thought he was being dispenser of good fatherly advice, or perhaps more of his sardonic wit, but anybody save Jane probably would have recognized the cruelty inherent in the sentiments. However, on due reflection, Jane thought her father was probably right. It was about time to quit crying like a whiney green girl and got on with her life. So, she had been abandoned… well she was neither the first, nor the last woman that would suffer that fate, and Mr. Bingley was no longer worthy of her sentiments. If he wanted to pay court to the haughty Miss Darcy, she was welcome to the spineless worm. Yes… spineless worm… she liked that, and thanked Lizzy's ghost most politely.

Jane was trying to decide whether it was good or ill fortune that she was alone in her aunt's parlor when Lizzy's letter arrived. The letter was confusing for a few moments because the beginning had no relationship whatsoever to the note her uncle had astoundingly received a week prior. Lizzy had, apparently, somehow attached herself to another family, and was to make another journey into the North country with no notice whatsoever. Even more curious, Lizzy's new friends seemed to lack a surname, a direction, or any indication of their specific profession, or precisely even which county she was to travel to. It was quite vexing. Lizzy was well known to be forthright and honest nearly to a fault, but her manners were _the best_ of any woman Jane knew. She could never in her life distrust her sister, so she knew something was _quite amiss_. Lizzy would not have engaged in such strange behavior without a _very good reason_, and Jane was perfectly well assured her sister would enlighten her when the time was right.

When Jane had received the latter, it took her a good half hour to work out what must have happened, and she finally accomplished it through the simple expedient of paying attention to the date. This letter had been written early in the day _before_ her sister left Kent. It arrived in the regular post, so it seemed likely that Lizzy, perhaps in distress or confusion, must have forgotten all about it.

Jane desperately wanted to write to Charlotte to see if she could find out what had gone amiss; but spreading around idle gossip about her sister would be the worst of all possible offenses to good breeding. It would do no good and could do great harm. Also, much to Jane's chagrin, she realized that she did not actually trust her cousin Collins to refrain from reading his wife's letters, nor did she want to make Charlotte choose between her friend and her husband.

The correspondence with her sister must therefore be kept confidential. Lizzy had said Charlotte was informed, so that was that. If it was safe for Lizzy to write more explicitly, she would have done so. In the end, there was not a single thing Jane could get from Charlotte safely. If Lizzy had gone to so much trouble to disappear unobtrusively, she was inclined to believe it was all for the best of reasons.

Jane had finally managed to regain her equilibrium and was somewhat surprisingly looking forward to returning to Hertfordshire soon, when she was shocked yet again to hear the announcement of quite possibly the very last person in the world she might have expected.

"Miss Anne de Bourgh, ma'am."

≈ _A lady is tested when the unexpected happens. You should be able to comport yourself reasonably well no matter the surprise. ≈_

Jane had always endeavored to follow her Aunt Gardiner's advice, and now was the time for the lessons to pay off. She stood with much more grace than she felt, offered a kind curtsy to the unexpected, and frankly -she could not say whether she was actually unwelcome but she was disconcerting– guest. With Jane's curiosity fully piqued, she finally managed to stumble her way through a mostly proper greeting.

"Miss de Bourgh, what an… unexpected… pleasure. Will you sit down?"

"I thank you, Miss Bennet. I apologize for intruding without a proper introduction. I hope you will be able to forgive me."

"Of course, Miss de Bourgh. You have met my sister, so I am sure it is all quite proper. Shall I ring for tea?"

"I thank you, Miss Bennet."

The young lady sat down, and Jane Bennet endeavored to cover the time waiting for refreshments with the usual sorts of idle and pointless banter that was expected. Based on what she had heard early from Elizabeth's letters, she expected Miss de Bourgh to be pale, sickly and cross; and was fully prepared to thoroughly dislike her, insomuch as she was prepared to dislike anybody. It was therefore a bit of a surprise to find the young heiress was well mannered, polite, and easy. There was something… well, compelling in the young woman. Jane would not dare to hazard a guess about whether Miss de Bourgh was like this all the time, or only when she escaped her mother, whom Lizzy had reliably reported as a bit of a vulgar busybody. Of course, it was possible Lizzy may have been mistaken. It would not be the first time Lizzy fell victim to her own prejudice or was overly enamored with her first impressions.

The ladies carried on with the usual social niceties for a good ten minutes while awaiting the tea service, and both somewhat surprisingly found that they got on quite well. Naturally, neither of them said anything of consequence, nor were they likely to anytime soon, if ever, but they seemed to have a natural affinity.

Finally, the young heiress of Rosings asked, "Miss Bennet, I know coming here was a bit of an imposition, and I hope your aunt does not mind. I thought since I was in company with your sister recently, I might be able to make your acquaintance without too much undue distress."

Jane was well on her way to being prepared to think the very best of her new companion, but still looked at her a little bit suspiciously, having not entirely abandoned her faith in Lizzy's judgment. Her sudden appearance here, after Elizabeth's disappearance could hardly be coincidence. Something was afoot, but Jane did not know if she was really prepared to unearth the problem, or how to go about it if she did.

She finally answered politely, "I do not mind, Miss de Bourgh. We have several mutual acquaintances, so I do not find it very much of an imposition. You know my sister obviously, and of course, your betrothed, Mr. Darcy is fairly well known to my sister Elizabeth and I."

Jane was watching the young lady like the proverbial hawk while she delivered that name, and she had no idea whether she was gratified or saddened to see Miss de Bourgh flinch.

Miss de Bourgh took a moment to compose her thoughts, and finally replied, "Miss Bennet, may I clear something up?"

"Of course, Miss de Bourgh."

"I am not, nor have I ever been, nor will I ever be - betrothed to _my cousin_ Darcy. I have an… er… enthusiastic mother whose ambitions do not match mine. Nether Darcy, nor I have any inclinations towards mutual matrimony, nor will we ever."

Jane looked carefully at the young lady, trying to work out what exactly she was trying to say.

"I apologize, Miss de Bourgh. To be honest, I of all people can understand… Mother's ambitions."

Jane had no idea whether she should be thoroughly mortified or not, but in questions such as that, the question usually supplied the answer. If you thought maybe you might be embarrassed, then odds were good that you should be. However, the words once said could not be unsaid.

Based on the fastidiousness of Mr. Darcy, and her presumed similar traits for his cousin, Jane expected some type of censure, or reaction. She did not expect the one she got. Miss de Bourgh simply started laughing and carried on for quite some time until Jane finally got over her flushed embarrassment and joined her. When they finally could speak somewhat sensibly again, the young lady said something completely surprising.

"Miss Bennet, I… well… you see… I thoroughly missed my chance to get to know your sister better while she was at Rosings, all of it to my own fault, mind you. Miss Elizabeth certainly put my mother in her place, leading me to believe that she has certain… er… experience with… difficult… mothers."

That brought Jane into a much easier bout of laughter, and the young ladies broke down some type of barrier that they had not even known was there. They had felt an almost instant kinship of a sorts without any explanation, but now that they had something clearly in common, perhaps they could be a little easier with each other.

The next half hour flew by in a flash, neither one paying the slightest attention to how long a social call was supposed to last, particularly between two people of such different stations, who had never even been properly introduced before. Miss de Bourgh eventually reminded Jane ever so much of her sister Elizabeth, when she was sneaking away from one of her mother's more insufferable tirades. She could easily imagine Miss de Bourgh somehow crawling up a tree, although looking at her she could see that she was not the resolute, sturdy Elizabeth Bennet, but she did have a certain type of strength. Perhaps there was more to the lady than met the eye.

"Miss Bennet. I know I have not known you but one hour, but I wonder if I might…"

The young heiress lady seemed to run out of courage right at that time, just as she was working her way up to whatever point she was trying to ask. It was obvious something was remaining unspoken, not the least of which was just where in the world Elizabeth had disappeared to, but it was obvious to each lady that asking _that_ question would be far beyond the bounds of an hour's acquaintance. Even her cousin Collins could discern how bad of a breach of propriety that question would entail.

Jane Bennet was right in her element. She knew how to make people more comfortable. Lizzy would tease people into better humor, while Jane would simply comfort them into the same state through different means. In this case, Jane seemed like she had the necessary skills, so she got to work.

"Miss de Bourgh, please be easy. It seems you would like to ask a question, but possibly lack something. Is it courage? Politeness? Propriety?"

"Miss Bennet, I suppose I am impeded by the rules of politeness and propriety; or perhaps those are simply ready excuses for embarrassment or cowardice."

Jane saw her father talking to her again just as before, although not quite as mean spirited as he usually was, and at least this time, for once in his life, he gave her sound advice. After listening to his diatribe, she applied it to her current situation.

"Miss de Bourgh, my father likes to say that propriety is simply _organized and systematic lying_. Perhaps we can dispense with that for the moment, as I do not for a single moment believe you just happened to stumble on my aunt's home in Cheapside a few days after my sister mysteriously disappeared from your mother's estate."

Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, and in fact before all of them are out, Jane immediately regretted sounding much more like Lydia than like herself. She had started out with the intention of bringing this young lady at ease, but instead had effectively attacked her like a highwayman.

For her part, Anne de Bourgh was made of sterner stuff. No daughter of lady Catherine de Bourgh was going to be intimidated by Jane Bennet.

"Miss Bennet, we are both daughters of _take no prisoners_ mothers, so perhaps we may skip over some of the social niceties and get right to the point."

"I thought I was doing that."

"Oh yes, I see that you are. I am not suggesting you are derelict in your duties. I am simply agreeing to your overall scheme."

_"__Where is my sister, Miss de Bourgh__?"_

At that point the question was out there and could not be retracted. The two ladies stared at each other for a few minutes, but it turned out that Jane had the stronger hand and would not be moved. There was something to be said for a little bit of training in stubbornness over a course of twenty-two years.

"I do not know, Miss Bennet. I… I… cannot tell you the entire story as it is not mine to tell. I would be breaking the confidence of two people. It is not strictly my business, but I would like to try to ensure your sister's comfort if I may do anything to help her."

Jane gasped in surprise, and asked much louder than she would have hope, "Is my sister in any danger?"

She was instantly chagrined to see the look of utter terror on her companion's face, before she replied, "No no no no no no! Please! This came out all wrong."

Anne had to pause for breath for a moment, before continuing.

"I do not believe your sister is in any physical danger, but she has… a reason… to be… difficult… to… locate. I… I feel inadequate that I cannot tell you all that I know without breaking a confidence but… well… it is beyond me. I do not believe she is in any real danger, but I was hoping that I might be able to ascertain… _where she went. _I would like to correspond with her if I may and offer my assistance."

Jane was dismayed to think she might have been so close to some intelligence, only to be stymied by her new friend's sense of honor; but being unwilling to break a confidence said something for her, and since Miss de Bourgh did not know any more about Elizabeth's present situation than Jane did, there was little point in belaboring it.

Jane had to think for several minutes before she decided whether to trust in this new acquaintance? … friend? She finally decided to fall back on her basic nature, because it was giving her a splitting headache trying to be Lizzy.

With a sigh, Jane replied, "I do not know, Miss de Bourgh. She is apparently hiding, but I do not know where or why. We received a note by the regular post indicating she was perfectly well, but she is to go on a small tour somewhere in the North with a family who is thoroughly unknown to us, and I believe she may have… tricked…"

At this point, Jane just realized she had probably broken Lizzy's confidence, but it seemed too late to rectify the error.

"That is to say… well, not tricked… but, perhaps, depended on my father's indolence to obtain permission."

Much to her surprise, Anne clapped her hands in glee, laughed, and said, "Oh, that is so rich. I knew I liked your sister. I cannot wait for her to get back. We shall have such fun together."

Jane just stared at her, wondering if Lizzy would be so sanguine about the connection, but since Jane knew no evil of Miss de Bourgh, and was generally inclined to think the best of people, she decided she would just like the young lady in front of her until such a time as she might have cause to revise that opinion.

Both ladies felt like they had reached a sort of a precipice, and neither really knew how to go on further. A small further discussion brought them into a closer intimacy, and another half an hour of conversation indicated that both ladies had some things that they felt they needed to keep in confidence, but those things that they were willing to share had been dispatched.

Anne of course was completely unwilling to talk about Darcy's proposal, while Jane was completely unwilling to talk about Darcy's involvement in her personal life.

Both ladies speculated mercilessly about Elizabeth, but unless she had been kidnapped by a band of pirates there was not very much that they could do about it. She would return when she wanted to return, but neither lady had any particular reason to believe Elizabeth was overly distressed. It was in neither of their natures to be pessimistic about follies and misunderstandings. Jane believed Elizabeth would sort her own problems out when she chose to do so and convinced her new friend of the wisdom of that attitude.

* * *

Finally, after some time, the ladies chitchat wound down, and they wondered what to do next.

Miss de Bourgh seemed to gather her courage a bit. Darcy was going to be disappointed that she had learned nothing of Elizabeth, but frankly, Miss Elizabeth was Darcy's problem, not hers, and Anne had come to town with multiple agendas.

Anne took a deep breath, then somewhat sheepishly asked, "Miss Bennet, would you… dare I ask too much… would you be willing to attend a ball with me? My aunt, Lady Clarissa, is holding one on Tuesday next, and I might be able to brave it if I had you by my side. I once heard your sister say her _courage always rises to any intimidation_, but I am afraid, mine does not quite rise enough to brave a ball alone, or with my cousins."

"**A ball?**"

Jane was very nearly beyond the capacity of surprise by this point, but that would certainly have not been a question she was anticipating. While she sat in stunned silence, her erstwhile companion carried on, warming to the idea.

"Yes, a ball! I am using the coincidence of your sisters escape to… well this will sound selfish, but I am taking advantage of the distraction to come and enjoy a little bit of the season. I know that it's nearly over, but I have never managed to partake of any of it."

With that, her courage failed her, and she sat staring at her shoe, belatedly realizing there was some mud attached to it that she had not noticed before.

Jane was more shocked than she had been to find out Lizzy had disappeared. With Lizzy, something like that was bound to happen from time to time, just as it had all their lives, but a rich heiress, obviously older than her, who had never been to a ball was a concept Jane could not wrap her head around.

She finally asked, "You have _never_ been to a ball! I am all astonishment! Why ever not, Miss de Bourgh?"

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, she replied, "I was sickly as a child, and I think my mother and I simply developed the habit over many years of not being in society. She always thought I was for Darcy, and I never really wanted to go to balls or engage in society enough to fight my mother, so I have never been to one."

"Surely you have someone else to take you, perhaps one of the two cousins that were with you at Rosings?"

Anne just laughed, and said, "A ball with the lunkheads? **Never!**"

In that very moment, Miss de Bourgh seemed an awful lot like Elizabeth, and Janes heart went out to this poor young lady who at five and twenty had never even been to a ball, and probably did not even know how to dance. Jane had to admit that she was not particularly occupied at that moment, nor had she been for some time, nor was she likely to be any time soon, so therefore the idea had some merit. At least it might relieve the boredom that was becoming the primary emotion to replace her heartbreak.

"What type of ball, Miss de Bourgh? I fear I do not have clothing good enough for a first circle ball, and I have neither the time nor money to purchase it. I… do not travel in that sphere."

Miss de Bourgh just laughed, and somewhat impertinently asked, "With four sisters, you have never borrowed a ball gown?"

"Weeeelllll…."

"**Perfect!** I have another cousin who is but sixteen, but she is almost the same height and build as both of us. She has trunks and trunks and closets and closets full of gowns, all of the finest quality, and we can borrow any that we like. I do not have time to have one made either, nor am I inclined for my mother to know what I am about, so I fear we both must be beggars. _Please_, will you accompany me? I would be in your debt. I could come here tomorrow with the seamstress to make some adjustments and all would be done in plenty of time for the ball. _Please, Miss Bennet._"

Jane just sat staring at her new friend, wondering when she was going to get serious for a moment, and was a little bit surprised to find her completely serious.

"You want me… Jane Bennet… to go… to venture from my _tradesman uncle's_ house… to your aunt's ball… wearing… your cousin's dress?"

"Yes, that sums it up nicely"

Jane felt like she had simply been run over by horses and left by the side of the road for dead. Apparently, Miss de Bourgh had learned a few things from her mother, because without ever actually having said "yes", she seemed to have committed herself to attendance at a ball.

"Why me, Miss de Bourgh?"

"I wish to honor you with my condescension and elevated rank."

Anne almost held a straight face for a good fifteen seconds, before both ladies descended into a fit of giggling that would have embarrassed Lydia or Kitty.

"In all seriousness Miss Bennet, I… I… I need your help. I wish to make my life… more… more… well, just more. It has been so constrained for so long, I hardly know where to begin, and… well, I trust you. You do not have to watch me like a nursemaid… just be in the same room with me. That is all I ask."

Jane finally gave her a look she copied from Lizzy, and replied, "A ball seems like a good place to start."

Anne smiled brightly, and said, "My thinking exactly! I am assuming, based on your current demeanor, and what I have heard about your general character from my cousin, that you will be able to ease my way a little bit. I hope it will be useful for you as well. There will be lots of handsome and well-connected man, and I will no doubt have to bring a couple of my cousin's guard dogs to hold them back."

Jane just laughed, trying to imagine any dog more frightening than Lizzy reported Anne's mother to be or more ill‑tempered than Mr. Darcy, but gave up and nodded in acquiescence. The whole idea of going to the ball made not the slightest bit of sense, but Jane was certainly not going to turn down her friend, nor was she opposed to having an opportunity to throw herself in the paths of other rich men. She was quite done with Charles Bingley.

That 'gentleman' was certainly not the only man in the world, and in the end, her mother did occasionally make some sense. Jane was so used to hearing her mother in flights of fluttering speaking nonsense, but right then, she could see Mrs. Bennet standing right in front of her in one of her infrequent introspective moods.

≈ _Jane… I always thought you could not be so beautiful for nothing, but it is not your face or your figure that is the most beautiful. It is the way you treat others. Lizzy is very clever and mostly kind, and you are very kind and mostly clever. You have the advantage. I have five daughters to settle in good marriages, and like it or not, you will have to be the one to lead the way. If you cannot find felicity in marriage, none of the other girls have the slightest chance. ≈_

It was a depressing assessment, but Jane Bennet could not very well disagree. Apparently, a ball was just the thing.


	6. Council

≈ _Fitzwilliam, a gentleman must always think about the effect of his words and actions on everyone around him. He must consider his family, his tenants, his descendants… but most importantly, at any given time he must give his every attention to whoever is standing in front of him. ≈_

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat in the library of his London townhouse, morosely staring into the fire, and listening to the ghost of his father trying to teach him how to be a gentleman. He wondered exactly how disappointed his father would be if he knew how low he had sunk. Had he truly made a proposal that included insulting his intended? Had he truly used the word 'degradation'? Had there ever been a worse proposal… ever?

He was just reaching for the brandy decanter to pour himself another glass, when the door opened without warning, and both of his cousins walked in.

"Anne. Richard. Welcome back."

His countenance obviously showed his distress, so his cousin Anne refrained from trying to make things any worse for him. She rightly assumed that he was perfectly well capable of doing that all by himself.

"Fitzwilliam, you need to speak with Jane Bennet."

"**Jane Bennet?** I thought you went to inquire of her aunt."

"I did, but only Jane was there."

_"Jane?"_

"_Yes, Jane!_ We have formed a friendship, surprisingly enough. She is going to go to a ball with me on Tuesday next."

Darcy just chuckled, and said, "You are the only one surprised, Anne. I'm not in the least bit shocked that you make friends once you put yourself out there. I am ecstatic to see you escaping Rosings, finally, and I do believe you and Miss Bennet will get on well."

"Thank you, Darcy."

Not willing to think very much about Jane Bennet in that moment, Darcy asked, "Did you learn anything from her?"

Anne looked a little bit embarrassed, and said, "You do realize I went in there without an introduction? I believe I did well enough, but I could not break your confidence, or Miss Elizabeth's for that matter, so I could not tell her what occurred. You need to talk to her Fitzwilliam. She is very close with her sister. She should know."

"Yes, I believe I must… If I can just work out how to do it."

"Let us see. You own a horse, a barouche, a carriage, a landau, a…"

"All right… All right… I get your meaning."

Anne laughed, and said, "All it requires is courage, but if you are not in a hurry, I would appreciate it if you wait until after the ball."

"Of course."

Ann perked up a bit and added, "I am not completely without news. Jane and I built up enough confidence that she told me much more than I could have reasonably hoped for."

"Once again, nobody surprised but you."

"Do not interrupt. At any rate, she mentioned that Miss Elizabeth wrote a bit of an odd letter. It was apparently deliberately vague and confusing, but the gist of it is that Miss Elizabeth apparently, somehow, met some new acquaintances on her way back to Town, instantly befriended a daughter, and has left on an extended trip with them. She will be back in a month or two."

Darcy nodded his head a few times, and after a little bit of thought, opined, "That sounds just like her. I imagine if you dropped her in the desert a hundred miles from the nearest river, she would find a band of nomads to take her to water within the hour. She is apparently hiding from me?"

"It certainly seems that way."

Darcy nodded his head a few more times, and said, "I can see how it might make sense. Her mother is quite the mercenary. I imagine if she was planning to accept me, she would have done so. This must be her way of rejecting me without having to fight her mother over the issue. She must be fairly close to her age of majority, so perhaps she is just trying to buy some time."

His cousin Richard, added, "These mercenary mothers can be quite a trial, eh Darcy."

"Yes, hers has no subtlety whatsoever."

Anne, replied, "Yes… I can certainly criticize Mrs. Bennet fiercely, with _my_ mother being so amiable and subtle in her machinations."

Darcy winced painfully at that reference but had to allow that it was correct and wondered exactly _why_ he had been overly worried about Mrs. Bennet's manners while completely ignoring his own relatives.

Richard nodded his head, and continued, "Oddly enough, I had a conversation about that exact subject with your Miss Elizabeth the very day she left."

Darcy did not like the sound of that very much, and replied, "She is not _my_ Miss Elizabeth, Richard. I will do everything in my power to make her that, but she is not yet, and very well may never be."

His cousin just chuckled a little bit, and said, "Have a little bit of faith in yourself Darcy. Once you get your worst enemy out of your way, you will do fine."

They both knew who his worst enemy was, so there was no reason to belabor the point. There was however an item of some curiosity. Darcy looked at his cousin carefully, and asked, "Richard, how in the world did you end up discussing mercenary mothers with Miss Elizabeth?"

"Well, Darcy. I had some idea that you might fancy the lass, and she gave me a perfect opportunity to sing your praises. She mentioned your friend Bingley, and I told her how you saved him from a mercenary last winter. Unsuitable family, and all that."

It was with some amount of shock that Richard, for the first time in their long association, even when they were boys, saw the brandy glass in Darcy's hand fly into the fire and smash, with a whoosh of flames as the alcohol caught fire and burned, scattering flames across the flagstones.

"**You did what?**"

Richard, a little bit surprised by the outburst, said, "I was simply telling her about your good qualities… How you look after your friends."

Darcy started running his fingers through his hair nervously, muttering like an imbecile, watching his father shake his head in consternation standing right behind Richard's shoulder. George Darcy had a particular way of shaking his head and looking both pained and disappointed that made his son wish he'd used the belt a bit more often and the disappointed look less. He could perfectly see his father standing right next to Anne delivering one of his favorites.

≈ _Son, a man's actions will have consequences, and your actions will have more than most. Always try to make sure you know what you are about. You will be a powerful man, and with great power comes great responsibility. You could do well to start with Hippocrates. First do no harm. ≈_

Anne, looked at her cousin in some alarm, reached over, took his arm, and said, "Darcy, what? What? **What**? Did you… Did you… Did you, perhaps, leave something out?"

Feeling the full weight of his shame, and his father's disapprobation, and probably his grandfather's and great-grandfather's while he was at it, Darcy started muttering to himself, "Selfish… Selfish… Selfish… Stupid… Stupid… Stupid…"

Richard gave a little laugh of mirthless humor, and asked, "Can you be a bit more _specific_, Darcy?"

Darcy gave a great sigh, and said, "I helped convince him to separate from Miss Jane Bennet. I thought she showed no signs of affection, since she looked at Bingley exactly the same as everyone else; but she showed every sign of compliance with her aggressively mercenary mother, who was boasting openly and publicly about what a great Mistress of Netherfield Miss Bennet would make."

Almost instantly, the brandy glass was not the only damaged item in the room, because the next thing Darcy felt was Ann's hand slapping him across the cheek so hard that he was afraid it hurt her hand. She stood up a few inches from his face, screaming far worse than her mother ever had, but certainly no worse than he deserved, "**How could you? HOW ****COULD**** YOU! You of all people! You! You! YOU LOUT!**"

With her message delivered, Anne practically ran across the study to the door, muttering and getting angrier by the minute.

Richard just shook his head a few times and got up to follow Anne out to make sure she was all right. He reasoned that she would be back again… eventually… maybe.

Just before Anne reached the door, she turned around and pointed her finger at his chest and said in a menacing voice, "Do not follow me. You _boasted_ about this… to _her sister_. You… you… you are as bad as he is. DO NOT TALK TO ME."

Richard watched her slam the door with gusto and heard her stomping away like a herd of elephants, chagrined by the chastisement, but secretly happy to see his cousin turning into a bit of a spitfire. Anne was entering the season now, and her boasts of becoming betrothed before she returned were not without merit. He simply sat thinking, _'Well, well, well… my little cousin finally grows up'_.

Darcy, having thoroughly destroyed his brandy glass, simply started drinking from the bottle, and wordlessly handed it back to Richard when the Colonel joined him. They only gave up when the bottle was empty.


	7. Dancing

_A/N: Frivolousness I promised. Frivolous I deliver, I hope. Wade_

* * *

≈ _Opportunities do not come every day Jane. Make the most of any that you get. ≈_

Jane Bennet was quite satisfied to find that her advice was now coming from her real-live Aunt Gardiner, sitting in the chair right in front of her, instead of her parents' ghosts, neither of which were generally all that helpful. In fact, her aunt was the most sensible woman she had ever met as well as the best mannered. Jane reflected that her aunt was probably the only reason she and Lizzy were not grown-up versions of Lydia. The two had been discussing everything from Jane's four‑month bout of defeatist and self‑inflicted melancholy, to her recently acquired determination to better both herself and her prospects. This was naturally followed by a discussion of what little they knew about Elizabeth, and her recent acquisition of a new friend.

In response to a question about Anne, Mrs. Gardiner replied, "Jane, you live your life with too little suspicion, my girl. Your sister lives hers with too much. Between the pair, you are actually quite sensible."

Jane always loved it when her aunt said things like that, and she sometimes wished she was quite so clever. Being well‑aware of her virtues or her defects, Jane knew that both Lizzy and her aunt were smarter than she was, and she was also aware that her aunt was probably just as amiable, so she strove to be her own person, but perhaps someone worthy of as much respect when she reached that age.

"Aunt, I think you are correct. I shall aspire to distrust everyone I meet from now on, which will be very convenient since I have been asked to a ball on Tuesday next."

Jane's aunt looked at her in surprise, and asked, "Are you certain you wish to enter that snake pit, Jane?"

Jane knew what she meant. Aunt Gardiner was in trade, but that did not mean she was unaware of what went on in the _ton_. She knew her uncle could perfectly well acquire an estate if you really wanted one, and he might eventually, but neither of them particularly aspired to it. Perhaps one day, but not now. Her Aunt Madeline was referring to the somewhat infamous behavior of many members of higher society, who would naturally be attending such a ball.

"Aunt, there is really nothing for it. I would be perfectly happy to meet one of your associates, and I am certain that I have been a disappointment to you with all my moping around these four months, but it is just one ball. Now that I am willing to talk with a man without biting his head off, I think I may find the exercise worthwhile, and I must admit… well… _Miss de Bourgh seems to need me_, and nobody has _needed_ me for a very long time. My mother 'needs' me when she has her bouts of nerves, but that is not the same as really needing me. That is just using me. Lizzy and Charlotte don't need anybody for anything, and let's just not discuss my younger sisters."

"Jane Bennet – _That is the most unforgiving speech," said Aunt Gardiner, "that I ever heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again the dupe of your mother's self‑inflicted problems."_

Both ladies laughed a little bit, but gradually became easier. They spent the next hour in somewhat less dangerous waters, and Jane was happy to take yet another lesson in how a real lady behaved. It was so hard in Longbourn to even remember what it was like to have people of good humor, good breeding and good manners. She really thought she might happily live her entire life here in Gracechurch Street if it were not such an imposition for her aunt and uncle.

Their tête-à-tête was interrupted by the butler, announcing, "Miss de Bourgh."

They barely had time to stand and curtsy when Anne bustled in, followed by footmen carrying trunks, and four seamstresses. Say what you like about Miss de Bourgh, she took her ball seriously.

Introductions were proffered, and Miss de Bourgh got her very first lesson in how a true lady behaved. Her mother had gone on and on and on and on and on about good breeding, and the general lack thereof for people in trade, but Mrs. Gardiner was a force to be reckoned with.

"Mrs. Gardiner, I hope I have not overstepped my bounds by inviting Jane to the ball on Tuesday next. I realize it was improper for me to do so without asking your permission, but I hope you will be able to forgive me."

Madeleine Gardner just had a good laugh at the young lady, and said, "Of course… of course. We do not mind at all, save the fact that my husband and I cannot chaperone. I realize you are both well of age and long gone from the schoolroom, but since this is your first ball, I would feel better if you had someone else to depend on."

Anne just grinned, and said, "Would my aunt, Lady Clarissa suffice, Mrs. Gardner? She very specifically asked me to request that you do her the honor of coming to tea tomorrow afternoon, that you might feel comfortable with her as Jane's chaperone for the evening."

The ladies agreed to the scheme, and after a little bit more talk, they got down to the serious business of somehow making a couple of Georgianna Darcy's brand-new, never worn, ball gowns fit both ladies. Anne had mentioned to Jane that she was borrowing her cousin's gowns, but she had not been specific about _which_ cousin, and had no intention of starting now. She reckoned that what Jane did not know would not hurt her, and frankly Georgianna had so many gowns she would hardly even notice the absence of two. Darcy thought new gowns made his sister happy, and Georgiana thought buying gowns for her made her brother happy, so new gowns were purchased on a regular basis with neither of the siblings particularly interested in the enterprise, but neither having enough sense to just ask. Anne found the whole enterprise too entertaining to comment on, and she reckoned that seamstresses and merchants had to eat too. Anne had felt not the slightest compulsion to ask Darcy permission. She had simply chosen the gowns she wanted and went about her business.

* * *

The following day, tea with her Aunt Clarissa was notable for its lack of notoriety. The ladies had a lovely meeting, and all left thoroughly impressed with each other. Lady Carissa was as opposite of Lady Catherine as it was possible to be. The only reason she had never entertained the idea of having a tradesman's wife come to tea was that the idea had never occurred to her, but she planned on carrying on quite the acquaintance with Madeline Gardiner, and wasted no time arranging a dinner party for the following week.

Once the lady met Jane Bennet, she felt one of the great regrets of her life. Her husband had died earlier than she would have liked, and she, for the first time in quite some time, really wished she had an unmarried son. It would have been the greatest of entertainments to introduce the two, but she was philosophical about the whole thing. If she did not have a son, she could certainly dig up some worthy man somewhere.

She was certain that the world of the _ton_ was about to get quite a little surprise, and she was very much looking forward to it.

* * *

Surprisingly soon, the ladies found themselves dressed in their borrowed finery and adorned with borrowed jewelry. Both ladies found it hilarious that Anne possessed an enormous quantity of family jewels, sitting snugly in the safe at Rosings, but she had to borrow some for a ball. She thought that borrowing the Darcy jewels might be a bit much, so they borrowed a few necklaces, earrings, and seed pearls for their hair from Lady Clarissa. In no time at all, they were in the receiving line, and the next thing they knew they were standing at the edge of the proceedings, waiting for the dancing to begin.

Anne, feeling a bit overwhelmed, asked, "Jane, I… well, I do not actually know what happens now."

Jane just laughed, and said, "Who knows for me, but you simply stand here, and you will have your dance card…"

She never quite even got the words out, before a young man was introduced by Lady Clarissa's youngest daughter as Mr. Stilson. He was a bit of a nervous young man, who had a certain boyish charm, stammering and stuttering in front of them, so the young ladies had to work out a system to deal with it. Basically, Jane calmed him down with her gentle manners and her natural empathy enhanced by what she had learned from her Aunt Gardiner, and then pointed him towards Anne with a bit of less than subtle instruction she learned from her sister Lizzy.

As instructed, the young man solicited Anne the first set and Jane for the second. When Anne accepted, his look of heartfelt delight was just so adorable that both ladies fell very happily for their evenings work so far and thought they could quite happily go home right at that moment and consider it a success. Of course, they had yet to dance, but there was time.

They were just standing there laughing with each other, attracting a reasonable amount of attention from the other gentlemen in the room. There were maneuvers being made among the gentlemen to secure introductions, and Jane was just looking towards the door when she gasped in surprise and grabbed Anne's arm so hard it hurt.

**"Ow!"**

Jane released her immediately, and colored in embarrassment, but Anne just laughed at her, and said, "Come, come Jane, you cannot believe I am frail enough that I was actually hurt by that."

Jane distractedly replied, "I must leave at once."

Now truly alarmed, Anne asked, "Whatever for?"

Jane pointed to a set of new entrants just coming to the receiving line, and said, "I have not told you about this, and I imagine a ballroom is not the correct place to do so, but I had a… a… a… _disappointment_ last winter. A severe one. A man paid _very_ particular attention to me for six weeks, and then left the neighborhood without even taking his leave. I have been as heartbroken as an ignorant mooncalf schoolgirl for the last four months. That red-haired, so-called gentleman over there is Mr. Bingley."

Anne, completely forgetting what she had shared with her new best friend and what she had not said, "So that is the spineless worm."

Jane stared at her a moment, and said, "Anne, how _exactly_ did you arrive at the precisely same adjective my sister Lizzy used, and how exactly do you come to know he is as you said?"

For just a moment, the two ladies' relationship was suspended on a precipice. A surprising amount of trust had been built up very quickly on little direct evidence, but it could just as quickly be shattered, and Jane was, for the first time in her life, feeling suspicious of someone's motives.

Anne, quite afraid to lose the first true friend she had ever made, said, "Please Jane, will you… forgive me. I learned about Mr. Bingley just two days ago. I do not know your sister's words. I just used the most appropriate one I could think of for someone with the _poor sense to take advice from Fitzwilliam Darcy of all people _about women. If it makes you feel any better, my Darcy cousin is wandering about London with my handprint on his face."

Jane nervously laughed, and said, "**You did not!**"

"I did."

"I do not imagine he enjoyed that very much, but at least it probably shook him out of his reserved for a minute. Did he… that is to say… did he retaliate?"

Her obvious concern nearly broke Anne's heart with the confidence she had to keep, and she replied, "Believe me Jane, that was the highlight of his evening. I wish I could tell you the rest, but..."

"You shall not break a confidence, Miss Anne de Bourgh. Let it be forgotten."

Anne breathed a huge sigh of relief, and then said, "I assume you have no intentions of dancing with Mr. Worm."

It was not really a question, but Jane nodded just in case.

"But if you refuse him, there would be a certain amount of satisfaction in it, but propriety would demand you not dance the rest of the evening… and… I believe I have a better idea."

"Which is?"

Anne quickly turned to Lady Clarissa who had been conversing with a friend a few yards away, asked her a quick question, then grabbed Jane's hand and started dragging her unceremoniously through the middle of it.

* * *

"Uncle Andrew, there you are. I need your help."

Major General Andrew McConnell looked at his grandniece Anne, with a certain amount of satisfaction. Their relationship was somewhat distant, and he had always been worried about the girl, but here she was demanding with all the implacable stubbornness of her mother, but an archness and sweetness that no uncle could deny. He was frankly very happy to see it and wondered if the young lady with her was cause or effect.

"How can I help you, Little Annie."

The young lady giggled in surprise, not having been called that in quite some number of years, but she did not oppose the scheme.

"Uncle, this is my particular friend, Miss Jane Bennet. Jane, my great uncle, Major General McConnell. Oh, and I think he is a Member of Parliament, and, well, I forget what else."

"You forgot father of five daughters."

The young lady in front of them laughed somewhat uncomfortably, but her smile was something certain to set the hearts and minds of the young men attending the ball to attention.

"What a coincidence, General. I am the eldest of five daughters myself, sir."

The general, very much enchanted with the young lady, laughed a little bit, and said, "My grandniece did not come here just to introduce you my dear. What can I do for you?"

The general had learned to cut to the chase in most situations. While he would have been perfectly happy to sit and chat with young ladies for an hour or two and had every intention of doing so later, it did not escape his notice that their arrival had been somewhat precipitous.

Anne, sounding like a much sweeter version of her mother, said, "General, would you do me a great favor without asking why?"

The general just chuckled, and said, "Seeing my grandniece in society is perfectly well reason enough, Annie. How might it be of service?"

Anne simply said, "I desire for Miss Bennet's dance card to lack any available slots."

The general looked a little bit perplexed, and said, "What do you need me for? Simply wait half an hour. Both of your cards will be full."

"I desire for hers to be full… now."

No slouch when it came to strategy and tactics, the general could not help laughing a little bit before he got down to business.

"Are we looking for marriageable men, old men or pretty boys who can simply fill her dance card."

Jane quite liked the grandfatherly looking general, with his thick mustaches, and gray sideburns. He looked at Jane carefully, and she was gratified to see that here was a man, a leader among men, who was soliciting her opinion. True, it was a question about her own life, but she was so used to the idea of the men in her life just assuming things and making decisions accordingly, she felt both happy to be asked - and a little bit sad that her standards for manly behavior were so abysmally low.

"I would like about half of each General, but I am not that particular."

The general, quite used to battle scenes, and quite aware that the ballroom was very little different, asked, "Am I to assume that you have given me your trust, Miss Bennet."

"I have given Miss de Bourgh my trust."

The general seemed satisfied with that answer, and replied, "May I have your dance card Miss Bennet. Would you object terribly to a mix of married and single men?"

"I believe that would be ideal, General, and I thank you."

The general nodded a little bit, said, "Is this your first foray into society in London, Miss Bennet?"

"Is it that obvious, General?"

"Not at all Miss Bennet, I'm simply laying down the order of battle."

Jane was having tremendous fun with the older gentleman and gave him a radiant smile.

The general chuckled, and said, "It would be best for you to open with a married man, I believe. Will my eldest son in law do the trick?"

"I place myself in your hands, General."

The general's wife, a lady of around sixty years, who had all the grace and manners of Aunt Gardiner arrived just at that moment, and the general asked her to kindly look after the two ladies for a few minutes, keep them out of trouble, and away from any other introductions. She agreed to the scheme, and the general took off at a brisk walk about the room. A mere ten minutes later, he came back with two dance cards, completely full.

"Ladies, I have not had this much fun in ages. I must point out that none of the men I appointed as volunteers were in the least bit reluctant to the task. Now I believe I must bring you around for introductions."

With that, he introduced them to his eldest daughter's husband, a bookish and interesting looking man of around forty, and then led to them around to be introduced to everybody they happened to encounter, with emphasis on the men who had somewhat indirectly asked both ladies to dance.

In all the hustle and bustle of meeting new acquaintances, trying to remember some small portion of the names, being sure to look out for each other, and everything else involved in the operation, Jane completely forgot about Mr. Bingley. In fact, she was completely unaware of his existence in the world, let alone in this ballroom… until she walked around a column on her way to get a little bit of punch before the first set was called, and almost ran headlong into him.

"Miss Bennet, what an unexpected pleasure!"

Miss Bingley was standing right next to him, and she said, "Miss Bennet, what a surprise. I had not expected to see you here in town, at _this sort_ of ball."

Jane could see out of the corner of her eye that Anne was preparing to emulate Lady Catherine a little bit more than Jane, and she decided that creating a scene at her very first ball was probably not the ideal outcome. She thought that a little bit of fun would probably be more to her liking… or at least it would be more to Lizzy's liking when she told her about it, and emulating Lizzy had proven efficacious in the past.

"Miss Bingley, _as you well know,_ I have been in town these four months. I am certain you must remember when I called on you in January. As your brother is so _engaged with Miss Darcy,_ I comprehend that you have not had the opportunity to call on me again. I can perfectly understand your desire to sever the acquaintance. I decided that I might as well go and see this 'superior society' you are so enamored with for myself, along of course with my good friend."

She tried her very best to keep her ordinary serene countenance that she was famous for, but it was very difficult to do, considering Miss Caroline Bingley was turning red and puffing her mouth like a trout caught on the line, and Mr. Bingley was looking at his sister with a look that could easily be interpreted as the closest thing to murderous intent he could muster; which frankly looked less fierce than Mr. Darcy in his best mood.

It was finally the brother who got himself under regulation at least enough to speak, and asked, "Would you gift me with the honor of an introduction to your friend, Miss Bennet?"

Jane really wished that Lizzy was here. She really really‑really-really wished Lizzy was here, because her sister would enjoy this almost as much as she was about to.

"Oh, I assumed you knew the lady, being of superior society. Miss Anne de Bourgh, may I introduce to your acquaintance Mr. Bingley and his sister Miss Bingley. Mr. and Miss Bingley, Miss Anne de Bourgh, heir of Rosings in Kent. I assumed that you knew her, being so well acquainted with her cousin Mr. Darcy or her mother Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

Miss Bingley replied with about as much sweetness as five spoons of sugar in your tea, along with a dollop of poison, and oozed, "Oh, Miss de Bourgh, it is so lovely to make your acquaintance. I have long desired to meet you."

Anne, feeling like having a bit of sport, thoroughly ignored Miss Bingley until Jane not-so-subtly elbowed her. She finally looked down her nose at the woman in a pitch-perfect imitation of Lady Catherine at her worst, and replied, "Miss Bingham."

Anne neglected to make any curtsy at all, and really was quite enjoying the absurdity of the entire encounter.

Mr. Bingley, seeing one opportunity to possibly redeem himself, asked, "Miss Bennet, might I have the honor of a set?"

"I am afraid my dance card is entirely full, Mr. Bingley. Good evening sir. Anne and I must get some punch before the first set starts."

With that, both ladies made somewhat condescending pseudo-curtsies, and walked away from the gaping pair, smiling hugely.

"That my dear Jane was the most diversion I think I have ever had in my entire life… well, aside from knocking out a couple of Darcy's teeth… well, and watching your sister put my mother in her place. Now, that was a sight, I shall have to tell you about it. Mother had no idea what hit her."

They both had a good laugh and went to the refreshments table for some punch. They of course could have had some gentlemen acquire the refreshments for them, or they could very well have had the general or another gentleman with them when they met the Bingley's, but they were both quite satisfied with the encounter as it was.


	8. Matlock

_A/N: My original concept for this story was about 90% D&E, but I have been attacked by my usual level of scope creep. There is now a quite a few parts for… well, better stop with the spoilers. Wade_

* * *

Traveling with the Wythes was everything wonderful, and in fact it was so agreeable to Elizabeth that she sometimes managed to go one or two hours running without thinking of Mr. Darcy and her situation. Mr. Wythe had business to conduct, but the rest of the trip was spent _in pursuit of novelty and amusement. One enjoyment was certain-that of suitableness of companions; a suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bear inconveniences-cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure-and affection and intelligence, which might supply it among themselves if there were disappointments abroad._

Margaret was everything a younger sister should be. She was bouncy and effervescent like Lydia, but without the self-indulgence, greediness and general disagreeableness. She played the pianoforte better than Mary but was not such a proficient as to make it uncomfortable for them to play duets. Her voice was sweet and light which complemented Lizzy's well. The young lady was not nearly as well read as Elizabeth, nor was Mrs. Wythe, but between father and daughter they had ample conversation for a twelvemonth, let alone a trip of some few weeks. Mrs. Wythe was sensible and kind just like Mrs. Gardiner. They had been disappointed to only be blessed with one child that survived to adulthood, but they were quite happy with Margaret and had not the slightest cause or inclination to repine.

Elizabeth greedily watched every new prospect, every new wood, every grand house with the fascination of long study and longing. She saw many estates in _Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth_ and_ Birmingham,_ each more interesting than the last. Some were grand edifices of self‑importance, as she tended to think of Rosings. Some were not‑so‑grand but possessed of families or stewards who were agreeable or disagreeable, but nonetheless interesting. Every estate had educated and not so educated guesses as to their income, although Elizabeth suspected that Mr. Wythe's estimates were probably not far off the mark. He was a man with an eye towards finance, business and trade, and it seemed like it would be very difficult to pull the wool over his eyes. Of course, that joke had to be made any number of times, and it was funny every time.

She observed estates much like Longbourn, with incomes of £800-3,000 per annum. Each of those gave her a small perspective on what could happen in life. She met people of the villages, including shopkeepers, rectors and servants.

One pair of ladies in Blenheim gave her a bit of a chill. The parents had fathered but two daughters, with the estate entailed on male heirs. One of the daughters married reasonably well, but the widow and her elder daughter, a Mrs. and Miss Bates were cast from their home, and left to shift for themselves in the town, exactly as Mrs. Bennet feared. As Mr. Wythe told the story, the father had tried very hard to save adequate funds to take care of his widow and any unmarried daughters, but his life was cut short by a sudden illness when he was just 35 years of age. The two ladies had enough money to take rooms and refrain from starving, but just barely. Meeting them was a chilling reminder of what could happen should things go wrong, and _her_ father had not even taken the trouble to save any money at all. Miss Bates seemed kind, but hardly clever enough to prosper as a governess or companion, while taking employment would leave her mother entirely alone and not very much better off financially, since it cost nearly as much to support one unmarried lady as two. The Bates ladies really had very few palatable choices.

Elizabeth began to calculate the mortification of possibly five unmarried daughters, three of whom were much too ignorant to be employable as anything save the worst scullery maids that ever lived, and the elder two only barely adequate as governesses. Until that point, she had been somewhat sanguine about what her life would be should she never marry, but this experience gave her a perspective that had never quite sunk in with her. It was one thing to see people born to poverty and living it every day, and quite another thing to see people just like her sunk so low. She did not know if Mr. Wythe introduced them deliberately or not and would be thoroughly mortified to ask or even hint, but it was a lesson she would have to think about. She could not repine giving up the supposed security of Hunsford parsonage and Longbourn if it cost a life with Mr. Collins; but throwing away Mr. Darcy of Pemberley would be giving up something indeed; although, after four weeks, it seemed likely that ship had sailed without her.

Elizabeth however was not made for melancholy, and the following fortnight she was very happy to be taking a tour of the grand estate of Matlock. Mr. Wythe routinely applied to the housekeeper whenever he came to an estate worth seeing. The Wythes were interested in everybody and everything, so she had seen estates half the size of Longbourn, and others seemingly half as big as parliament. She had seen everything from estates so hideous that they made her long for the coziness of Rosings, to estates so wonderfully decorated she thought she could live in them quite well forever even as a maid.

Matlock fell into the latter category. It was a large estate, with several hundreds of sheep. Mr. Wythe had seen the house any number of times himself, and he had a lot of ground to cover, so he asked the housekeeper kindly if she would be obliged to give the ladies a tour of the house and grounds, and then see them on their way to their lodgings. He was likely to be out the entire afternoon and evening, so would see them in the morning.

Elizabeth fell in love with Matlock. It was certainly grand, but she had seen grand before without being overly impressed. The thing about Matlock was that the Earl was not afraid to spend money, but he did not spend money frivolously. He was oddly enough the brother of Lady Catherine de Bourgh but took a much more pragmatic approach. If he spent an enormous amount of money on a fireplace, it should be a fireplace that produced heat efficiently, did not consume too much wood or coal, did not smoke too much, and might almost incidentally have a little bit of decoration. This explanation came from the housekeeper, who having found that Elizabeth had a fascination with things of that nature, was perfectly willing to indulge her curiosity.

Elizabeth learned that housekeepers did the tours mostly for tips, and they got a relatively significant income from the activity. Anyone who survived long enough to become housekeeper in a great house knew how the world worked and knew how to make a story interesting. The Wythes were reasonably generous with their tips, even more generous with their attention, and Margaret particularly fascinated the housekeeper, Mrs. Wilson.

Mrs. Wilson had been housekeeper at Matlock for nearly 20 years. She had delivered Matlocks from the cradle to the grave. The elderly housekeeper liked Miss Bennet, but she adored Miss Wythe. Elizabeth suspected Margaret reminded her of a possibly deceased daughter, perhaps a niece, or perhaps she just was making things too complicated. Maybe the elderly housekeeper just liked her for no particular reason.

Elizabeth was quite happily going through a sculpture gallery, while Mrs. Wilson was occupied explaining some things to Margaret, when she came up short, sucking in an agitated and somewhat noisy breath. Unfortunately, she did so right at the very moment the lady of the house happened to be wandering by as well.

Lady Matlock had heard about the visitors, and always liked to greet her guests just to satisfy her own curiosity, and frankly for the chance to liven up a dull day. Coming up behind the elder of the two young ladies, she heard the sound, but could not make any sense out of it. The gasp had come right as the young lady stumbled upon a marble bust of her youngest son.

* * *

"Are you quite all right, Miss?"

Elizabeth closed her eyes in mortification and wondered if she could do anything that would blast a hole through the floor and allow her to escape without being noticed. After a few seconds of this effort, she saw that she was having very little effect on the sandstone floor, and seemed unlikely to succeed, so facing the lady of the house seemed the only alternative.

"I beg your pardon my lady, I am quite well. I did not mean to startle you."

Lady Matlock was a well-known, long-established, highly social member of the _ton_, so she could practically smell prevarication. The young lady had in fact been startled, but her reaction after that was everything that it was possible to be with regards to propriety, politeness and good breeding. A very fast perusal of the lady's clothing told Lady Matlock quite a lot. The elder was obviously wearing a dress borrowed from the younger and fitted up. The sewing was exquisite, but there were seams, and folds that gave evidence of the small alterations to make the dress fit. She did not appear to be sisters with the younger, so perhaps she was a visiting friend who simply did not have all her wardrobe with her.

The younger was probably barely out of school, very much more excited than the elder, or at least less able to hold it in while she knew herself to be under observation, but still polite, demure and amiable. The elder, looked like she could quite happily be a bit of a spitfire in her own element, but here she was subdued and nervous looking.

Lady Matlock, never one to be afraid to indulge her curiosity, decided to introduce herself, being in her own home, and quite curious to see if she could light the fire she thought might be hidden behind the young lady's manners.

"I am lady Matlock. It is my pleasure to meet you."

Mrs. Wythe stepped up for the introductions. "I am Mrs. Wythe, of London. My husband is with your steward inspecting the herds and organizing your wool purchase. This is my daughter, Miss Margaret Wythe, and her particular friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire."

All the ladies did entirely appropriate curtsies, perhaps even a little more than rank particularly demanded. They were so surprised to be met by the lady of the house they hardly knew how to act but falling back on politeness was never a bad strategy.

Lady Matlock was not one to let a mystery just slip through her fingers, so she asked, "Ladies, would you consider taking tea with me?"

It was such an unusual request that none of them had even considered how you would answer. Fortunately, Mrs. Wythe assumed they could manage to get to the table, and consume a few biscuits without overly embarrassing themselves, so agreed to the scheme.

Trying to get back on a solid footing, Elizabeth said, "Lady Matlock, what a beautiful, wonderful home. I fear if I ever entered this house in a clandestine manner, you would simply need to search the library for me. You could set a trap just like for a rat, or perhaps just leave the cat in there, because I would show up sooner or later and be caught."

"My mouser is a very narrow-minded cat. He only seems to care about mice and has not caught a single intruder in the library in at least six months."

The ladies laughed at the little witticism, not really brave enough to try to make any more ambitious banter, but at least saw that Lady Matlock had a good sense of humor. The elder married ladies proceeded to organize a conversation much like a pair of Generals organizing a battle. They both wanted a certain amount of discussion from each of the participants, and they simply divided up the questions and answers automatically to keep everybody talking pleasantly.

Lady Matlock and Mrs. Wythe took an immediate liking to each other. Lady Matlock as not about to tear their society apart like the French, but she was also not about to avoid an acquaintance with an amiable group in her own home. She had always believed the idea of someone being below her because they were in trade was preposterous, particularly since she knew Mr. Wythe was at least partially responsible for her prosperity. Ladies were not supposed to know such things, but she understood that the estate's wool income had nearly doubled since it had been turned over to Mr. Wythe's care.

Lady Matlock had just about worked her way up to thinking that Margaret Wythe was a wonderful young girl, who would be a young woman of some real merit in three or four years. She made herself a small mental note to keep track of the young lady, because even with her being from trade, she thought she could launch into some type of society that would be very amenable to her life goals. The Lady was not a matchmaker per-se, but she did like to give the occasional young lady _not_ from the first circles a little bit of a _push_. She enjoyed being of use to amiable young ladies, particularly since it occasionally had some chance of success… unlike her efforts with her younger son and nephew, which seemed more akin to Sisyphus' endeavors.

Elizabeth Bennet on the other hand was already a force to be reckoned with. Shy and timid at first, she gradually forgot where she was and came out of her shell. Their conversations had been at times pleasant, at times contentious, and at time a little bit raucous after her first shock in the gallery – but they all were honest… at least, lady Matlock _thought_ they were honest. When they talked about books, it seemed entirely possible that Miss Bennet was propounding positions that she did not actually possess, just to continue the discussion. It was obvious the lady was barely tapping her education and was in no way trying to hide the fact that she was educated much more like a man than a typical woman. Having been called a bluestocking herself more than once, Lady Matlock liked Miss Bennet immensely almost immediately. The young lady never strayed an inch from polite discourse, but also never gave an inch of ground on a discussion that was not earned.

Lady Matlock, like any mother wanted to have her own sons disposed in marriage. She thought her son might have been a good candidate for this young lady; but considering that she had heard a gasp of shock when she saw the marble statue, and then turned around and never looked again, that was probably water under the bridge.

That left Darcy, and frankly, he seemed an almost perfect fit for young Miss Bennet. The lady would need to use all the iron backbone she possessed to drag him into a conversation, as he was not a man particularly amenable to the sport. They would also, certainly, from time to time have a disagreement, which was likely to at the very least explode, and possibly bring on the Apocalypse. They seemed a perfectly matched couple, and Darcy seemed more likely to look for a bride in a leper colony than in the ballrooms of London. Perhaps a little encouragement and an introduction were in order.

Wanting just a few moments of the young lady's undivided attention, she seized on the opportunity when Miss Wythe asked to use the necessary, and her mother went to accompany her, leaving Miss Bennet alone in conversation. Lady Matlock decided to nibble a little bit around the edges. Miss Bennet was certainly the liveliest, loveliest, and nicest conversationalist she had encountered in years, _so_ unlike the ladies of the first circle, so it was time to see who she knew.

"Miss Bennet, I noticed you had a peculiar reaction to the bust of my son, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Can you tell me what that lunkhead has done to offend you?"

The young ladies face fell precipitously. It was not quite the level you would get if you dumped a bucket of cold water on her head, but it was close. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her brow furrowed. It seemed she was trying to think of something polite to say but coming up short.

Lady Matlock, in an all or nothing mood, decided to ask, "Please, Miss Bennet. I am a mother of three sons. I know an offended lady when I see one. Do not fear retribution, or do not feel any need to answer at all, but I would like to be of service to you."

Elizabeth was torn between her desire to know all the defects of the two gentlemen from Derbyshire, and her desire to prevent any offense to Lady Matlock, who had frankly been the very first person of the first circles Lizzy found worthy of her respect.

≈ _Lizzy, your temper is your best and your worst feature. Sometimes it will be the thing that allows you to smite your enemies and it will be of great use to you. Other times, it will only allow you to smite your friends, so it will embarrass you and damage your family. Do try to do more of the former and less of the latter, my girl. ≈_

Lizzy had the flash of her father talking earnestly to ten-year-old Elizabeth while Charlotte Lucas sat a dozen feet away softly crying over some altercation. The gentle rebuke was far-far more effective than her mother's worst tirade, so Elizabeth had instantly run to Charlotte to make things right. Her practically groveling at Charlotte's feet embarrassed the older girl more than anything else, but they had put their relationship to rights, and they had been the best of friends since.

Now, Elizabeth sat wondering how much to say, but decided on the course of prudence, even though she would be missing a golden opportunity to learn at least something about the gentleman from Derbyshire, even if highly biased and probably favorable.

"I have no offense to report against your son or your nephew, My Lady. Please be easy."

Without realizing it, she had given something away she had not intended, but now she was just wishing Margaret and Mrs. Wythe would return so she could escape any further embarrassing discussions.

Lady Matlock, on the other hand, felt like she wanted to adopt the girl right then and there, but she could do nothing if she did not know what the young lady was about. Ignoring all propriety, she reached across the small table to take the Miss Bennet's hand. The vivacious spitfire of ten minutes past was gone, and she saw a distressed and nervous young lady in front of her.

Very gently, she said, "So, Darcy as well? or… _mostly Darcy?_"

That got the full attention of the young lady, as her eyes snapped up to stare at her in consternation.

"I have no offenses to report, My Lady."

"That is not the same thing as having no offenses, Miss Bennet. I cannot demand your confidence, but I can offer my sympathy and advice for what it is worth."

Elizabeth's nod followed by a shake of her head was confirmation. She had offenses enough but was well‑mannered enough that the young lady would not even think of airing them here with a complete stranger, _as was exactly proper_.

With a sigh, Lady Matlock replied, "Miss Bennet, I realize that they have done _something_ offensive, but they are both good boys. Richard has been fighting these nearly ten years, and while he is amiable and well mannered, he is very direct and has lost a good bit of whatever subtlety he once had."

"Your son has never done me any harm, My Lady. In fact, he did me a great service, and his manners are all they ought to be."

"And yet, it was painful, so may I guess he let slip something about Darcy that distressed you."

Now the young lady was staring at her not even pretending to politeness, wondering how in the world Lady Matlock managed to strike so close to the truth on so little evidence. Lady Matlock paused a moment to examine her new friend, and then continued. Now they were getting somewhere.

"Did you know Darcy last both parents when he was your age and had to take over the running of a great estate and care of his sister who is more than a decade his junior. When other men were carousing or on their grand tours, or gradually learning from their fathers, or more importantly, learning how to deal with those of us of the fair sex, he was diligently insuring the hundreds who depend on his estate prospered. He has done as well as a young man ought, but he is _very_ shy and reserved, and it has not always worked to his advantage. I also believe his parents taught him to be overly proud and on the arrogant side; which also does him no service, but he is at heart a very good man. There is not a person who knows him well who will not give him a good character, but he does not do well in crowds or society."

Lady Matlock was undecided if she was happy or distressed at the reappearance of the spitfire, when Miss Bennet apparently let her temper get the better of her, as she replied with ice in her veins, "He is most assuredly _not_ a man who knows how to treat a woman with respect and courtesy, My Lady. Please forgive me for taking so much of your day, but I believe it is time for me to go."

Quite distressed about the whole encounter, the lady decided she would be sending an express to those two gentlemen within the hour. They both had some serious explaining to do.


	9. Substitute

True to his tactical sense, General McConnell had not only filled both ladies dance cards with gentlemen, but he had exactly calculated the appropriate gentlemen. Anne, despite all appearances was still not as robust as one might hope, so about half of her partners were older gentlemen who were not particularly vigorous, but they were interesting men who could stop halfway through the set, and converse quietly without raising undue fuss. The other half were perfectly amiable men of a wide variety of personalities, so that his grandniece could get a good look at what was available to her in society.

The general of course, being aware of both ladies now, took it as his personal mission to ensure they were well entertained. Jane of course kept in eye on Anne like a mother hen, so she only gave the gentleman she was dancing with half of her attention. While she had decided that meeting some of the gentleman would be worthwhile, she was not in a hurry. There would be time for all of that later should she keep her association with Anne, and if not, she could boast at home of attending a real London First Circles ball.

* * *

Jane was just finishing refreshments that had been delivered by her previous partner, Mr. Silverstein. He was quite an amiable man, owner of a small estate in Bedfordshire, and very eligible. In personality and deportment, he seemed to be about halfway between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. He was not as vivacious and outgoing as Mr. Bingley, and not nearly as reserved as Mr. Darcy. He truly was the kind of man that she would not mind knowing a little bit better. She thought that if he happened to call on her, it would not be the end of the world.

Over the first few dances, Jane had developed the strategy of working into their dancing conversation that she was staying with her relatives _in trade_ near _Cheapside_, before returning to her father's _small and insignificant estate_ in Hertfordshire. She wanted no illusions about who or what she was, and anybody who chose to take those things into consideration was not worthy of her time anyway.

Mr. Silverstein had secured the next with Anne, so he bowed and went off to collect her. Jane was looking around for her next partner, a Mr. Pennington, when he walked up to her visibly limping.

"Miss Bennet, I must offer you my most profound apologies. I actually sprained my ankle in the last set."

The evening had been one of curious ups and downs, so Jane decided that she would try a little bit of her sister's impertinence once again. Laughing just like Lizzy would, she replied, "Not original sir, but effective enough."

She was rewarded with a hearty chuckle, and a good-humored smile. The man replied, "You shall not escape so easily next time, Miss Bennet. Would it be too much to ask you to dance with a friend of mine as a substitute? He is a reserved man who dances rarely though he is quite skilled. I would like him to have the enjoyment of a set."

Jane was not particularly interested in being a charity case, but she looked over and saw Mr. Bingley, standing not twenty feet away, unabashedly staring at her. He was not simply glancing her way, he was fully engrossed in his observations, and it left her flustered, frustrated and _angry_. Who is he to stare at her? What right did he have to make her uncomfortable? The man had his chance and squandered it.

Feeling the beginnings of some quite unaccustomed feelings, she glanced to the right of the gentleman only to see a vision of her sister Lizzy speaking to her.

≈ _Someday, my dear Jane… Someday Big Sister… someday… someday… -and mind you, I really hope to see it- you will __FINALLY__ lose your temper. I can hardly wait but do try to make sure you have no sharp weapons or firearms on your person at the time. ≈_

Jane was at that point entirely fed up with all the Netherfield occupants and everyone associated with them. Mr. Bingley had been watching her all night far worse than Mr. Darcy used to watch Lizzy, and that had been thoroughly unsupportable. Jane had also endured another run‑in with Miss Bingley somewhere during the night, which left her frustrated that she did not have Lizzy or Lydia to set her down, because she was nowhere vicious or impolite enough to say what needed to be said.

Apparently however, Lizzy's predicted reckoning would not happen tonight. Whatever the case, the lady had no intention of being available for Mr. Bingley to ruin the rest of her evening by asking for a dance. Pragmatically, she decided that _anybody_ who was _not_ Mr. Bingley would suffice.

With a serene smile, she replied, "Yes Mr. Pennington, that would be lovely. I shall do my good deed for the day. Your friend will be safe with me."

Laughing good naturedly, Mr. Pennington replied, "Wait right here if you will. He is just around the other side of this column."

* * *

Mr. Pennington hobbled off, apparently not crippled, but not up to dancing. While he left, Jane surreptitiously checked that Anne seemed to be doing well. In fact, now that Anne had been in several dances, Jane really thought her work with the young lady, such as it was, could be considered complete. After Jane had gotten the lady over her first dance jitters, Anne did not truly need her, and Jane really had no idea why her friend had invited her in the first place. Anne could perfectly well have tackled he ball with the General, Lady Clarissa or one of her other relatives. In fact, it seemed that the key to success was not the _presence of Jane Bennet_, but more likely the _absence of Lady Catherine de Bourgh_.

Jane had just finished locating her protégé, when she turned back and saw Mr. Bingley working his way towards her looking determined… in a spineless sort of way. She hoped Mr. Pennington had done his job and was glad to hear him walk up behind her, saying, "I have found him, Miss Bennet."

Jane turned around, very peeved at Mr. Bingley's obvious attentions, only to see Mr. Pennington dragging a gentleman over practically by his sleeves, with the look of a man who had called in a favor of some kind. Another quarter turn of her head left her gasping in surprise. Jane now found herself in a very uncomfortable position. She was now standing about two paces away from none other than Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

His bow was deep and polite at least, as he said, "Miss Bennet, it is a pleasure to see you again."

Suddenly, the whole thing became crystal clear in her mind, and she felt like the world's greatest, most trusting, most ignorant, most naïve fool. _Mr. Darcy_ quite rudely and _unapologetically_ separated her and her _'unsuitable family'_ from Mr. Bingley and boasted to his cousin Fitzwilliam about his success. Her sister, Elizabeth, mysteriously disappeared after a visit to Rosings _with Mr. Darcy_. It would take _quite a lot_ to rattle Lizzy, so whatever happened must have been terrible. The heir of Rosings, and coincidentally _Mr. Darcy's_ other cousin abruptly called on her _in __Cheapside_ to form an acquaintance under very mysterious circumstances, and then set about very abruptly befriending her against all common sense. Jane came to her very first high society London ball, and found not only _Mr. Darcy's_ good friend Mr. Bingley, but _Mr. Darcy himself_ apparently lying in wait. As far as she could tell, the entirety of the _ton_ was conspiring to bring her right to this very moment, just so they could sport with her and see how far her manners and good breeding would carry her.

She gasped in surprise, stared at that man in absolute consternation, and tried to think of what to say, without much to show for her efforts, desperately wondering if 'someday' had finally arrived.

Mr. Darcy, unaware that _this_ was the lady that Pennington had called in his favor for, started trying to dig out of the hole he had created for himself. He barely managed to get out the basic pleasantries, and a bow, before he found that _for the second time in less than a fortnight, he was staring at the back of a Bennet sister, who was unwilling to say a single word to him._

* * *

With a terrifying sense of déjà vu, Darcy watched Jane Bennet spin around and walk across the floor as fast as she could with any sense of decorum. She stood ramrod straight and tall, no tension in her bearing, not walking in any particular hurry, but moving across the dance floor with surprising speed, as if she were skating.

Beginning to have real concerns, he said a few words to Pennington, and started following her. In a crowded ballroom, he was constrained to be even more subtle than he had been in the pursuit of her sister, but this time he was not willing to let her out of his sight, regardless of the consequences.

He reached the ballroom door just in time to see the eldest Miss Bennet walking out into the chilly April evening, without even getting her wrap or boots. With a sinking feeling, he watched her start running down the steps, while he hopelessly followed along behind. She ran up to the first hack sitting in the queue, spoke to the driver for only a few seconds, then jumped in and slammed the door without even waiting for the footman coming over to assist her. The driver clicked his tongue at the horse, and off they went, he imagined to Gracechurch Street.

Becoming truly alarmed now and feeling even guiltier than ever, he flagged down a passing servant, and without time to even compose a note, he asked him to give a short message to General McConnell with just enough information to let the General know not worry about Miss Bennet, and to escort Anne safely to Darcy House, along with Miss Bennet's belongings. Then he went to the next hack and jumped up on the seat beside the driver. Feeling like some type of villain, he instructed the driver to follow the other hack which was just now going out of sight, but to keep the distance far enough that they would not be observed.

Forty minutes later, as expected, they pulled up a few hundred yards behind the other hack, and he was thus able to see the elder Miss Bennet exit, pay the driver and run towards the house. She was obviously shivering, practically freezing to death, and she ran up the steps and into the house while he sat and watched.

The driver of the hack was beginning to get nervous about the whole operation, and he did something he never thought he would ever do in his life. He simply made up bald-faced lie and delivered it just like George Wickham would. He indicated that the lady was his cousin, that she had had a disagreement with another cousin, and he was simply trying to ensure she got home safely. Then he paid the man double the going rate and asked him to take him back to the ball. He still had his carriage at the ballroom and did not really want the driver to know exactly who he was or where he lived.

He felt that there was very little he could do that would make the situation any worse than it already was.

* * *

Upon arrival back at the ball, Darcy first sought Lady Clarissa. She gave him a look that would curdle milk, but then took him to a small anteroom where he found one very angry Anne de Bourgh pacing and cursing. As soon as he entered the room, she set to.

"What have you done, William?"

Darcy sighed, and walked over to a sideboard to pour himself a brandy. He had no real need for the drink, but he needed the time to sort his thoughts.

"Anne?"

He nodded towards the bottle in his hand, and she looked at him in some shock.

"Partake or not as you choose, Cousin… but do not pretend it would be your first drink or even your twentieth. You will get no censure from me. I try to keep my hypocrisy strictly within bounds that do not involve drinking."

Anne sighed, and nodded for a drink which Darcy poured.

Lady Clarissa said, "May I safely leave you two, or do I need to check you for knives. Darcy, may I presume you will deliver Anne to Darcy House."

Darcy gave a grim chuckle, "Yes, My Lady, I shall do so… although as things are going now, she will be in my carriage and I will be running behind."

Lady Clarissa laughed, and said, "Yes, but exercise is so good for you young boys. Keeps your handsomeness, then she patted him on the cheek much the same way you would pat your favorite old hound that was lovable but too stupid for its own good."

Darcy chuckled, bowed to the lady and watched her leave before turning back to Anne.

"Shall I answer your question now?"

Anne took a sip and nodded.

Darcy told her of the substitute dance debacle, and Miss Bennet's abrupt and silent departure, in as few words as possible.

Anne replied, "What can it mean, Cousin?"

"It most likely means she knows _something_, although I have no idea what. Did you know Bingley was at the ball?"

Anne laughed a bit, and said, "What is left of him is still out there dancing."

Darcy asked curiously, "Left of him?"

Anne laughed, "Yes, I think that is just about everything except his pride… although that did not seem to amount to much in the first place. Jane put him in his place but good, and you would have loved what we did to his snake of a sister."

Darcy smiled at that one, and said, "I suppose she either found out something about the debacle between myself and her sister, or the debacle between myself, Bingley and herself, or something else. She just turned around and ran like the wind when I introduced myself. Much as she vexed me, I must admit I was impressed. She can move whilst still looking as quiet and demure as you please."

Anne sat down in a chair and seemed quite subdued.

"Why the glum face, Anne… It is me she is quite sensibly avoiding."

It took a moment for him to see a tear sliding down her cheek, and a sob escaping from her throat. Feeling like the biggest heel in the world, he handed her a handkerchief.

"Thank you, Cousin. _Perhaps_ Jane is just angry with you, but considering the astounding number of coincidences my friendship with her is based on, and the very short time we have been acquainted, and the fact that I have done more than one thing that would appear at least at first blush as dishonest, and the fact that her sister is running from some combination of Darcys and de Bourghs – do you not think it possible or even likely that she would believe that we were all involved in some conspiracy to defraud her?"

Darcy gasped at the insinuation, then sat down in the facing chair before thinking through all the possibilities. Each minute of thought presented even more possibilities for Anne to be correct, but he finally replied.

"It is not only possible Anne, but I believe quite likely. I think it is time for me to call on her and come clean."

"If she will even see either of us."

"Yes… well, if not then we shall work it out. Can you be ready for a call at her Uncle's house tomorrow."

"I will be ready."

"Come on, Anne. Let us go home. Tomorrow is another day."


	10. Kympton

_A/N: Back to Lizzy, but for the next few chapters I have two parallel story lines but I'm going to focus on one and then switch back. I think it's too twitchy going back and forth but fear not… Elizabeth and the Wythes are moving apace. Wade_

* * *

After the debacle with Lady Matlock, Elizabeth began to question the entire enterprise. She either had to believe that she had misjudged the man, or that Lady Matlock was overly protective of her family, but she had wasted a golden opportunity to ask someone who could answer her questions… or at least could answer them if Elizabeth was willing to abandon all pretense of good manners, and good breeding.

That Lady Matlock might be overprotective was not impossible to believe, seeing as how Elizabeth routinely saw her family in the best possible light, even though they nearly always mortified her. However, Lady Matlock's frank assessment of Mr. Darcy's defects seemed to put the lie to that assertion. There was no reason to believe the Fitzwilliams should be any different, and even though she had tried her very best to dance around the issue, Lady Matlock had seen through her without any great difficulty.

The worst part was that Elizabeth had a reasonable belief that Lady Matlock would have been happy to accept anything she had to say, and would be equally happy to answer any question she had; but Elizabeth's courage failed her at the last minute, and it was too late to return and ask again.

Elizabeth was still a fortnight short of her age of majority, still had no idea what to think about Mr. Darcy, and was even more confused than she had been to start with. All in all, the trip was enjoyable, and she truly loved the Wythes, but thus far she had not accomplished her goals, nor even made any meaningful progress. aside from the many hours of restless attempts at sleep where she chased what she thought and what she knew like a dog chasing its tail.

Of course, simply being away from the man for two months or more would probably accomplish the goal of _not_ being betrothed to him, but the specter of the Bates ladies made her reconsider. Was it right for her to penalize her mother and her sisters simply because she did not wish to marry a man who did not respect her?

What did she really know of Mr. Darcy? He certainly was involved in separating Mr. Bingley from Jane. That fact was indisputable, but frankly any spineless worm who walked away from Jane was probably at least half simple anyway. Jane was almost certainly better off without him. Jane was definitely better off without the pernicious Bingley sisters, so was she really to hold that to the Darcy account, even if the man had done everything to separate them for Mr. Bingley's benefit and not Jane's?

What of Mr. Bingley's culpability in the matter? If he was going to abandon Jane, did he not at least owe her the courtesy of taking his leave like a man instead of crawling off like a mongrel?

What of Charlotte's assertion that Jane had her own culpability because she did not show her affections? That one disturbed Elizabeth much more than Mr. Darcy's interference. Could Elizabeth _really_ hold Mr. Darcy to account if Jane showed no affection, but her mother boasted publicly of 'capturing' the man… _within Mr. Darcy's hearing?_ It was difficult to see how she could fault him. Especially as her mother had slighted Mr. Darcy in the same breath when Elizabeth tried to get the matron to speak more quietly.

For a few minutes, Elizabeth tried to picture the world from Mr. Darcy's perspective. He was master of a great estate. Mrs. Bennet was certainly not the first mother to hunt him or one of his friends, nor was the Meryton Assembly the first place where rumors of his income and consequence were whispered around the room within five minutes of his arrival. For the first time, she surmised that _it must happen everywhere he went!_

Elizabeth remembered very clearly his entry to the assembly hall. She had seen plenty of the ghosts of the past before, but this time she saw _herself_ speaking with Charlotte. Elizabeth had found the man quite handsome on first appearance, but then found his facial expression not to her liking. As if watching herself from afar, she watched the conversation, and found herself far from satisfied with the result:  
_ ≈ And the person with the quizzical brow? ≈  
≈ That is his good friend, Mr. Darcy. ≈  
≈ The miserable poor soul! ≈  
≈ Miserable, he may be, but poor he most certainly is not. ≈  
≈ Tell me. ≈  
≈ Ten thousand a year and he owns half of Derbyshire. ≈  
≈ The miserable half? ≈*_

Elizabeth wanted to flush in embarrassment and shame right there and then, because she suddenly realized that _her behavior was only a slightly more subtle version of her mother's._ She was measuring a man she had never met by his income and demeanor as he voluntarily climbed into what must have seemed like a vat of boiling hot oil. To make matters worse, she had the temerity to become mortally offended when the gentleman later failed in his God-given duty to find her handsome enough to dance with when his friend badgered him publicly.

Those thought were so very disturbing that she had to move aside to another topic for a time, so she moved to the next thought. Continuing thinking about her interactions with Mr. Darcy were likely to make her die of shame right then and there, which would be a terrible inconvenience for the Wythes.

In the light of a new day, Elizabeth found Mr. Wickham's account to be disturbing, but she had to belatedly admit that perhaps Jane was right. It was entirely possible she did not know all the particulars; and as little as Jane could encompass the idea, Mr. Wickham could be lying or exaggerating.

Lizzy had no _evidence_ to support him other than the fact that he was agreeable and pleasant, while Mr. Darcy tended toward offense. However, a closer examination of Mr. Wickham's manners added disturbing questions. If he was so well mannered, why tell a complete stranger his personal business on the very same day he met her? It was certainly not proper, and she had taken the bait like a tasty worm, just because she was predisposed to dislike Mr. Darcy. What would she have done if Mr. Wickham slighted someone she liked, or was indifferent to? She tried replaying that first conversation in her mind, replacing every reference to Mr. Darcy with Sir William or one of her Uncle Gardiner's business associates, and she would have cut him off before the second sentence was uttered.

The realization that she had participated in yet‑another violent propriety violation sent her into another sort of shock, and she began to wonder if she should be having an impoliteness contest with Mr. Darcy. She was not at all certain who would be the victor.

Mr. Darcy was certainly capable of lies by omission. When she mentioned that Jane was in town these four months, he had simply said he had not had the privilege of seeing her.

That would have been the perfect time to add something like, _'No, I did not see her, since I consider you, her, and the rest of your family unsuitable company and I was not up to suffering the degradation.'_

In the end, neither of the gentleman's manners really stood up to close‑scrutiny, or even cursory inspection. That meant neither had any advantage in believability. Mr. Darcy refused to disclose anything about Mr. Wickham, but was that arrogance or politeness? A true gentleman did not spread tales about another unless he had a very good reason, not share his personal business with the world at large; but what could Mr. Wickham's 'very good reason' be. She could not fathom one.

Her snort of derision at her own silliness earned her a curious look from Margaret and Mrs. Wythe, but she just nodded her head and did not elaborate.

* * *

The carriage arrived in good order at the village of Kympton, a mere fifteen miles from Pemberley around dinnertime on Saturday. She got out of the coach, eager to be in a neighborhood associated with the Darcy family, and anxious to further her investigations. In a curious bit of coincidence, they were to attend church at the very parish Mr. Wickham claimed was to be his living, so perhaps you could ask the rector who _had_ the living about the two gentlemen in question. That would certainly be a way to learn the truth – if she could bring herself to ask such an impertinent question. She could not imagine doing that with an unknown vicar, but she could imagine asking his wife.

They spent the afternoon wondering from shop to shop, and trying not to be too terribly obvious, she began asking subtle questions about the Darcys, with most people either giving them a good character or at least saying nothing bad.

Her first surprising bit of real intelligence came from the local bookseller. Margaret was not a great reader, but was, much like Kitty, a great advocate of the haberdashery, so the group split up with Elizabeth asking the privilege of spending an hour in the bookshop. Though she would not impose on the Wythes to purchase any books for her, she loved the smell of leather and paper, and it reminded her very much of her father's library. Mr. Wythe had business with a hauler in the village, and Mrs. Wythe went with her daughter.

For Elizabeth, memories of her father were very conflicted. She loved her father dearly, and always found great comfort in his presence; but she had to admit that he had done an exceedingly poor job of setting his daughters up for life in the world. He left his wife to raise them, which left much to be desired. They had practically no dowries, none had any real education, two thirds of them had no manners, and overall, they had very little prospects. And yet, he chose to 'assist' them by ridiculing them, rather than instructing them.

It was a realization that hit her right in the middle of the bookshop, and nearly made her want to sit down, but settled for a startled gasp.

≈_ Someday my girl, you will come to realize all the adults you look up to are flawed. Some are more flawed than others, and you may be distressed to learn that the people you love and esteem most might just have more flaws than most. _≈

The elderly owner of the bookstore, asked solicitously, "Are you well, Miss?"

"I thank you, sir. I am well.", she replied, mostly out of politeness. She had not quite understood that little sentence delivered by her grandfather when she was a young girl, but she certainly understood it now. Elizabeth wondered how many of her father's flaws she had inadvertently adopted into her own personality. She could name at least three apiece from each of her parents, but since the owner of the bookshop was looking concerned, she decided to put those ruminations to the side for a moment.

The owner was a grandfatherly sort of man, wearing an old-fashioned wig, and substantial sideburns. He seemed to be good‑humored, easy with a smile and a laugh.

The shopkeeper noticed a book she was looking at, and said, "Holding that book, you remind me very much of Miss Darcy. I ordered it at her request last summer, but she apparently had some travel in the early fall and has been from home longer than expected."

Seeing a small wedge of opportunity, Elizabeth asked, "I do not know Miss Darcy, but have heard of her. What sort of girl is she?"

The old bookseller, not a man immune to a little bit of conversation, replied, "A very accomplished young lady, but somewhat shy I believe. My sister is a maid at Pemberley and says she plays all day, sings like an angel, and has not uttered a single unkind word to anybody in the whole course of her life. Her brother absolutely dotes on her."

Elizabeth said, "She sounds a lot like my elder sister, except for the elder brother. We have none. You say Mr. Darcy is an ideal elder brother?"

At this point she had gone well beyond the bounds of propriety, and into the realm of gossip, but she had to find out something somewhere.

"Oh, I definitely believe so. He is a good customer and we talk occasionally. I do not believe there is a tradesman or a tenant anywhere in his sphere of influence that will not give him a flaming character. He looks after his sister very well and is quite possibly the most diligent master of an estate in all Derbyshire. He is always kind and courteous, and affable to the poor. He knows every tenant and every tradesman within a dozen miles. He is diligent with the land, fair and even tempered. His tenants get help when the harvest is bad, and their cottages are the best in the county. He even built a free school over in Lambton. He has been coming to my shop all his life, so while I cannot claim to really be intimate with his family, I have spoken to him often, and everyone here thinks well of him."

To see someone not connected to the man directly give such a good reference was not something to be disregarded. Elizabeth, probably for the first time since the mortification of his slight at the assembly in Meryton all those months ago, wondered how likely it was that her first impressions had been entirely and completely dead wrong. Of course, the man was probably one of the best customers for this shop, but what was to be gained by talking up the master of the estate to a stranger? No, it must be the truth!

The rest of Saturday afternoon in Kympton found much the same thing. Whether it was shopkeepers, friends of Mrs. Wythe or anybody else she met, her subtle or not-so-subtle requests met with nothing but approbation. Everyone gave him his due for being reserved and a more than a bit distant, but they assumed that just went along with the responsibilities he carried. Nowhere could she find the relief she might have felt at knowing others agreed with her own opinions about the man. Worse yet, she was beginning to doubt that even _she_ agreed with _her own_ opinions about him. She began to wonder if she could reflect on their history together and see if it was possible to build a _new understanding_ that encompassed both her own experience and what others said.

By the time she finally went to church on Sunday, she found much to her disappointment that the rector who had the living supposedly over Mr. Wickham was away with his wife visiting his sister for a fortnight. The sermon was delivered by a curate who was everything lovely, but not from the area so would be unable to provide any intelligence, or even neighborhood gossip.

Elizabeth was becoming a bit uncomfortable with the number of questions she asked about the Darcys, and reluctantly concluded that the limited bits she had learned would be all she received until they got to their next stop.

* * *

_A/N: * Lifted from the 2005 Movie_


	11. Axle

The screech of broken wood was just barely audible as Jane Bennet fell to the floor of her uncle's carriage, and the maid, Mary Taylor fell on top of her. She hit her head but did not damage it so much as the noise frightened her. She heard what sounded like the carriage horses making a lot of noise, the calm and collected voice of the coachman trying to walk them down, and the thunder of another horse as someone else rode by at a run, only to come to an abrupt halt. The next thing her confused mind could hear was someone else talking to the horses, so there were apparently two men trying to calm them.

In surprisingly short order the horses were again docile, calm and collect, so Mary climbed off the top of Jane, somewhat shaken up.

"Mary, are you right."

"Right as rain, Miss Bennet."

"Oh!"

Jane noticed some blood on the maid's sleeve and began to worry.

"Mary, your arm is bleeding."

"'Tis naught but a scratch, Ma'am."

Jane was not certain that was true or not, but it made no difference since she knew what to do.

Mary Taylor was one of Edward Gardiner's maids of all work. Up until that very moment, she had been enjoying the ride tremendously. Mary found the idea of a few hours in a coach with Miss Jane Bennet doing absolutely nothing, followed by a night at Longbourn and a few hours back with the coachman, to be a considerable improvement over dumping chamber pots, making beds, and trying to keep the damage from the Gardiner boys to a reasonable level. They were good lads, but lads they were, and a certain amount of mischief was to be expected before they learned proper manners, sometime in their forties Mary presumed. Mrs. Gardiner was a fair taskmaster. All the servants got to go to church every Sunday and had every other Sunday afternoon off, so it was a very good position. Mr. Gardiner also paid better than average, telling everyone in his employ that he expected just a bit more in terms of grace and discretion. The Gardiners were not technically gentry but comported themselves as such.

She was a little shocked to have landed on Miss Bennet and hoped she would not mind… not that she had ever seen even the slightest bit of temper from Miss Bennet. Truth be told, a bit of a tirade from the lady would beat the moping around she had been doing for the past four months. Mary had never been in love, and if that was the result, she wanted no part of it. She never would have days on end to mope around anyway and thought if the elder Miss Bennet had some real occupation, she might have been put to rights much sooner. However, criticizing her employers or her family was something a maid would never do aloud.

"Mary, the coach does not seem to be in any danger of falling over, so please sit on the seat there."

Mary did as she was bid and was surprised to see Miss Bennet pull a bit of embroidery out of her workbasket and seemed ready to wrap her wrist with it.

In a panic, Mary said, "Oh no, Miss Bennet. You cannot do that."

Not to be dissuaded, Jane simply said, "Have no fear, Mary. This is my sister, Lydia's. The thing is hideous, and you are saving me from casting it to the fire, which would be satisfying, but might make more smoke than I prefer."

Mary could not help giggling at the bit of silliness, as Miss Bennet examined her arm.

"We must clean this you know, but I have no reason to believe it will need stitches. Let us get you bandaged up for now, and we will take care of it permanently later. I am afraid cleaning it will hurt, but I must obtain some gin to do it properly."

Then to Mary's clear amusement, Miss Bennet carefully wrapped the offending bit of embroidery around her wrist and asked her to hold it in place. Then the lady even more surprisingly, pulled some scissors out of the workbasket, cut a ribbon off her own bonnet, and wrapped it around the makeshift bandage to hold it on.

"There, that should do the trick. Do not fret about the ribbon, Mary. My sisters have a compulsive need to remake bonnets anyway, so it is unlikely it would have survived the week. Have you any other injuries?"

Mary smiled at the solicitousness, shook her head, and asked, "What about you, Miss Bennet? Are you injured?"

Jane examined herself, being aware that not all injuries were obvious, and said, "I believe will have a knot on my head, but otherwise I am quite well. Shall we see what happened?"

The horses had calmed down considerably, and Jane noticed the sound of boots striking the ground outside the carriage, meaning that the coachman was probably satisfied they were under control. She heard a rattle and clunk of some type of harnessing, then something dropping to the ground, so she assumed the man had disconnected the horses. It seemed like a sensible enough approach to her, so she thought she might be able to exit the coach without injury.

She was just climbing to her feet, looking carefully at Mary to see if there were any other injuries to her new friend, when she heard the door open. She started talking as she was turning around, replying, "Mr. Chamberlain, I believe you did quite the job getting those horses settled. Mary and I are quite well, so…"

Whatever she was saying was lost, as she looked over the door to see none other than Mr. Darcy himself.

"Miss Bennet. Miss? Are you injured? May I assist?"

Jane just shook her head in resignation at the vagaries of fate – or was it fate, and replied, "This is Miss Mary Taylor, Mr. Darcy. Mary, this is Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire."

Both nodded, with bows and curtsies obviously being a little bit silly in their current position. Jane was a little bit surprised that Mr. Darcy would pay the slightest attention to a maid, but the man was obviously examining her makeshift bandage critically.

Jane continued, "Do not be alarmed, Mr. Darcy. Aside from a cut on Mary's wrist and a small knot on my head, we are uninjured. Even that needs but a bit of gin and salve. I thank you for your assistance, but you may be on your way now."

She glanced over his shoulder to see the coachman coming up behind Mr. Darcy. He had already started talking to the gentleman, saying, "I thank you sir. I am not entirely certain I would have gotten the horses under control without your help."

Mr. Darcy glanced over at him, and somewhat surprisingly said, "I think not, Mr. Chamberlain. I like to think I may have helped you a bit, but it is obvious you know you are doing, and all would have been well. I am happy to have been of some help but have no doubt you had things under control."

This bit of civility to first a maid and then a coachman seemed… unexpected to Jane. Perhaps Mr. Darcy was not _always_ so unpleasant as Lizzy tended to think… but then again, any man would have to beat his dogs to match Lizzy's opinion of Mr. Darcy. Jane thought she should at least be able to match his level of courtesy, so she said, "Mr. Darcy, I thank you for your assistance."

She tried to think of something else she could say, but nothing really came to mind. What other possible subject was she going to broach with the gentleman?

"Miss Bennet. Miss Taylor. May I have the privilege of assisting you down. Mr. Chamberlain and I need to examine the coach."

Jane did not really know how to react to that, so she simply reached over and took his hand so that he could hand her down. The most basic rules of courtesy demanded he offer his hand, and the same rules demanded she accept, so the entire operation was predetermined.

When Jane was on the ground, Mr. Darcy said softly, "Are you well Miss Bennet. I know from experience that an accident like this might leave you dizzy. I would not wish you to repeat the lesson that taught me, as you will not even have my cousin Fitzwilliam here to tease you about it."

Jane just stared at him, wondering where this teasing man had come from, but eventually just gave up.

"I am quite well, Mr. Darcy. I… I thank you, sir."

≈ _When in doubt Jane, always fall back on good manners. 'Tis far better to be disappointed that you failed to deliver a well-deserved setdown or could not manage to carry a proper grudge; than to repent that you have been unkind without cause. ≈_

As always, following Aunt Gardiner's advice was never a bad idea. Jane and Lizzy had perfected the art of looking at their mother with apparently rapt attention whilst simultaneously _actually _listening to their aunt in their mind's eyes before their tenth birthdays, and Jane found the vision just as comforting at two and twenty as she has at two and ten.

Jane watched curiously as Mr. Darcy made certain she was in fact stable before releasing her hand, then watched as he reached in to hand down the young maid with the same level of concern and civility.

"Miss Taylor, are you well? As I told Miss Bennet, sometimes these types of accidents will make people dizzy."

The young maid was not really accustomed to talking to gentlemen, particularly gentlemen whose boots probably cost more than her annual income. She stared at her feet, and mostly mumbled, "I am well sir. Miss Bennet saw to my comfort."

Jane walked closer at Mary and noticed that she was shivering a little bit. She started glancing up at her trunk on the top of the coach, wondering if it would be safe to try to retrieve a shawl from it. Before she could say anything though, she was forestalled by the most confusing man in England.

"Miss Taylor, I can see that you are shivering. It is quite common when you have a bit of shock or blood loss. May I?"

Neither Miss Taylor, nor Miss Bennet had the vaguest idea what he was proposing, so they both were a little bit surprised when he pulled off his greatcoat, and without waiting for a reply, he simply wrapped it around the young maid. Since she was standing wide-eyed wondering what exactly she should do, Mr. Darcy said gently, "Miss Bennet. I believe it is for you to button this up, and then I would suggest you ladies go sit on that fallen log in the sun over there, while Mr. Chamberlain and I examine your coach."

At this point, Jane had no idea how to react to the man. She had expected him to get back on his horse and leave immediately, although why he was on the road to Netherfield when Mr. Bingley was in London was anybody's guess. It seemed likely that a man in such humor would probably want to go kill some birds, or some other manly activity that did not involve chasing females across a ballroom; but why not go to his own estate?

In some ways Jane thought she should apologize to him for her ill manners at the ball, but for the first time in her life, Jane Bennet simply did not have it in her to be polite or think the very best of someone. For the moment, she was just happy that the temper tantrum Lizzy had been long expecting was to be delayed yet again. She was not really looking forward to it.

Following the gentleman's suggestion, assuming that even if he was impolite, he was at least not stupid, she buttoned up his greatcoat over the front of Mary, wrapped her arm somewhat motherly around the young woman, and led her over to the log. They were within a few years of the same age, but being of such different stations, they had not had any real conversations. It was just not done, and Jane, for the first time begin to wonder why it was so. Considering how poorly her relationships were with her peers and her social superiors, she thought maybe she would be better off making her friends among the servant classes. Mary was very close to her sister Lizzy's age, and Jane had enjoyed her company when she gave herself permission to do so.

Looking carefully at her companion, Jane asked, "Are you well, Mary?"

"Yes, Miss Bennet."

They sat down on the log and watched the two men as they walked around the coach examining it. If she had been capable of any more surprise in her life, she probably would have been shocked when Mr. Darcy turned around, grabbed hold of the axle of the coach with both hands, and simply slid underneath it. Mr. Chamberlain did the same thing from the side, and they both poked and prodded around whatever it was on the bottom of the carriage for a couple of minutes before both came swinging back out.

The two men conversed quietly, and then the coachman went to see to the horses who had been tied to a tree, and Mr. Darcy returned to the two ladies. Even though the responsibility of the coach was clearly Mr. Chamberlain's, it would never have occurred to a coachman to challenge Mr. Darcy for the privilege of talking to Miss Bennet.

"Miss Bennet. Miss Taylor. It seems a spring is cracked on your uncle's coach. It is not Chamberlain's fault, or anybody's really. These things happen. It does however mean that coach will not leave this spot for at least a day."

Jane stared at the coach for a moment, and replied, "Have no concern, Mr. Darcy. We are less than ten miles from Meryton. My three younger sisters are a bit silly and ridiculous, but _Lizzy and I are not_. We know every tenant within several miles of Longbourn, and every shopkeeper in Meryton. Someone will be along presently who can deliver us safely home."

Darcy was shocked that someone would be perfectly willing to just sit on the side of a road waiting for somebody just to avoid his company, but he reckoned that he had dug his own hole, it was time to dig himself out.

"Miss Bennet, please forgive my interference in your affairs, but it would be most ungentlemanly for me to leave you here. May I suggest an alternative?"

Jane believed that Elizabeth probably would have been unable to resist the temptation to comment on his presence or lack of gentlemanly behavior, but she was not Lizzy. She would be polite.

"You need not trouble yourself, Mr. Darcy. Go about your business. All shall be well."

At that point, she wondered if she was being kind or spiteful, but really, the man gave her the shivers, and spending time in his presence had little if any appeal.

"Miss Bennet, I know… well… I know that you distrust me… probably dislike me… for _very good reason_s; but will you allow me to assist you? I ask nothing else."

"Do not trouble yourself, Mr. Darcy."

"Miss Bennet, would you at least allow me to offer some alternatives before you dismiss me out of hand?"

Jane realized she was being unreasonable, and where Lizzy might have stuck to her stubbornness, Jane was not quite so practiced at it.

"What do you suggest, Mr. Darcy?"

"My carriage is less than an hour behind me. I rode ahead. If you are willing to stay here, I will be happy to deliver you to Longbourn, and will also deliver Miss Taylor back to your uncle's house at her convenience, after seeing to her injuries and a night of rest, of course."

Jane stared at him for a minute, wondering whether he was in earnest. Her opinion about her ability to read him was not auspicious, and she really had no idea how to react. At long last, she said, "No Mr. Darcy, I… please forgive my candor sir, but… well… I cannot appear at Longbourn in your coach. I… would be trading months of speculation, gossip and haranguing from my mother, for an hour or two of waiting for a farmer. I have…"

Here she looked a bit embarrassed, stared at the ground for a moment, then resolutely continued, "… I have had enough of that for one lifetime these past few months."

With that bit of truthfulness, which was very much against all the rules of propriety, and very much against her very nature, she simply stared down at the ground, wishing the man would just go away.

Mr. Darcy, surprisingly gently, said, "I understand, Miss Bennet. Would it help that my cousin Anne is in the coach, and you would really be riding with her, not me?"

Forgetting that Mary was right beside her, Jane lost her temper for just a moment, and said, "That actually makes it worse, Mr. Darcy. I…"

She could not actually say that she had been deceived, nor could she be certain that she was being fair to Anne or not, but she was in no mood to try to sort those things out there and then.

Darcy looked chagrined, and said, "Would it be acceptable for Mr. Chamberlain to take my horse into Meryton, and bring back a hire coach or a wagon? Barring that, I would be happy to go and hire you a coach myself."

Jane just shook her head, saying, "I cannot…"

At that point she did not have any idea what to do. She had no intention of staying there at the side of the road with Mr. Darcy, nor was she inclined to force Mary to either walk ten miles with her injury or sit possibly for hours waiting for a good Samaritan. However, having Mr. Darcy do anything whatsoever was anathema to her, even though the only thing she could positively establish about him was that she had pulled Mr. Bingley away from her. At that point, she was not even convinced that the gentleman had not done her a favor in that regard, since Mr. Bingley clearly lacked a spine. However, she knew perfectly well he did not do that for her benefit, nor did he even really care about what she thought or felt about it. The party could perfectly well have at least taken their leave after six weeks of behavior that any reasonable person would call 'courting'. Four months of despondency was easy to turn into a few minutes of white-hot anger with little effort.

She did not quite realize that she was chewing on her bottom lip exactly like Elizabeth did, or that her fists were clenching, or that it was the first sign of real emotion Mr. Darcy had ever seen on her face, or that the gentleman was undecided whether it was a good thing or bad.

Mr. Chamberlain was out of earshot, taking some grain and water down for the horses, but Mary was sitting right beside her. Jane was very constrained in what she could say and looked around to see somewhere she could ask Mary to go that was not downright rude or uncomfortable, but nothing came to mind.

Mr. Darcy said the most surprising thing, "Miss Taylor, may I ask you a question?"

Mary gasped at the question, and really had no idea what to say, so she simply nodded her head.

"I am unwilling to ask you to separate from us, as that would be unaccountably rude to you and I am still concerned for your health, as is Miss Bennet. However, I would like to talk to Miss Bennet candidly, if she will allow it. Would you be willing to listen for a few minutes, and keep our confidence… _if_ Miss Bennet agrees to the scheme?"

Regaining her dignity, Mary stared at him, and said somewhat angrily, "What do you take me for, Mr. Darcy?"

Surprisingly enough, he gave her a smile. Jane had to admit he was devilishly handsome when he smiled, but it was such a rare occurrence it was of very little practical value.

"I believe you to be a decent and honorable woman Miss Taylor! However, it is my duty as a gentleman to ask rather than assume. I am _imposing_ on you by requesting you keep a confidence, and I realize there is a price for that, so I am giving you the courtesy of asking your permission."

Jane and Mary stared at him wondering what he was about, but then they both finally just shook their heads realizing that they would probably never understand him.

"I will say nothing, Mr. Darcy. I appreciate the trust… and…"

"And…"

"And… well, Sir… No gentleman has ever trusted me with a… a…. confidence. It is a… what is the word?"

Jane found the exchange interesting, and supplied, "privilege?"

"Yes, ma'am. A privilege."

Somewhat surprisingly, Mr. Darcy reached into a pocket on his vest, and handed Mary a card. He said, "I am in your debt, Miss Taylor. I would ask you to present this at any of my properties at any time and allow me the _privilege_ of repaying it in some way."

Mary really had no idea what to say then, so Mr. Darcy simply put the card in her hand, which she poked out of the front of his greatcoat, and he turned to Miss Bennet.

"Miss Bennet, I know you do not trust me, but please may we find a way through this impasse and allow me to help you. I assure you that my cousin Anne is _devastated_ that you might believe _her_ to be culpable in _my own_ errors, so I would beg you to reconsider and talk to her for a few minutes. You need not forgive me, but I would beg you to give _her_ a chance."

Jane could not really work out whether he was being honorable or stubborn. She imagined a man like him must have a reputation and showing up at his club in London after leaving a couple of ladies stranded by the side of the road miles from the nearest village, would probably earn him some discussion he did not care for. He was as honor bound to help them as she was stubbornness bound to prevent it. They were at an impasse, with no way forward.

They looked at each other in confusion for a few moments before Mr. Darcy took one more tack.

"Miss Bennet, may I tell you something that may be of use to you in resolving this impasse."

She eventually sighed and replied, "I suppose."

"My cousin Anne has been of ill health most of her life. She nearly died as a child, and never quite recovered. Adding to her misery, she has an overbearing mother to end all overbearing mothers. Mrs. Bennet is all goodness and light by comparison. Anne _finally_ at five and twenty has worked up enough courage to escape Rosings. To the best of my knowledge, there has only been _one thing_ she well and truly desired in her entire life. Can you hazard a guess as to what it is?"

"No, Mr. Darcy. You talk in riddles."

"I imagine I do, so let me speak plainly. My cousin wants _one true friend_. That is all she really wants in life. She wants one true friend to help her through a season and finding a husband. She wants just one person she can count on to trust her and accept her trust. _She found one and I ruined it_. She probably told you about the handprint I carried around for a day, but that was the least of it. She is absolutely livid with me, with good cause. I would beg of you to forget I exist and give her a chance. I ask nothing for myself, but I beseech you with all my heart to reconsider a friendship with Anne."

He watched her earnestly, before carrying on his campaign.

"Please, Miss Bennet. Allow me to help you and my cousin. I asked nothing in return and offer you any service you would demand."

Jane and Mary were both staring at him apprehensively, and finally, Jane timidly asked, "_Any service_, Mr. Darcy? That is a very open‑ended offer."

Mr. Darcy surprisingly grinned a little bit, and at that very moment he so much reminded her of Elizabeth. She had no idea why Elizabeth came to mind right at that very moment, but she did.

≈ _Jane, sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. Just hold your nose at the stench and do it. Most of the time you have to be polite and ladylike, and most of the time good manners and propriety will serve you well – but once in a great while – you just have to push Billy Lucas into the mill pond. ≈_

Taking Elizabeth's advice had never taken Jane astray, well aside from the few times they had ended up in trouble as girls, and well aside from her advice to be nice to Mr. Bingley, and… this was getting her nowhere. Elizabeth was not here, and Jane was, and in the end, Elizabeth was the person she trusted most in the world. She would take advice from Elizabeth's ghost over almost any corporeal person anytime.

She glanced over at Mary, and asked, "Mary, are you sure you wish to hear this? It may well be most embarrassing."

Mary just squared her shoulders and nodded her head. She would earn her respect the hard way without qualms. She said, "If'n you can stand my company Miss Bennet, it'd be my privilege."

"Here is my price Mr. Darcy. I will talk to your cousin, and I will ride in your carriage, but in exchange you will answer _three questions_ with absolute and complete honesty… no prevarication… no softening the blow… no politeness… certainly no propriety. If that is too much for you, I would ask that you fetch my shawl from the coach for Mary and leave now. You may assuage your pride and uphold your duty as a gentleman by engaging the farrier in Meryton to come back for us, so long as you do it subtly."

She wanted to blush and look at her shoes. She wanted it so much she could taste it, but instead she simply pretended she was Lizzy, and stared at the man hoping she could somehow pierce his stoic countenance. She did not get very far though, as he replied immediately.

Mr. Darcy gave a deep bow, and said, "I accept your terms happily, Miss Bennet."

Now Jane saw that she had painted herself into a corner, but she really had very little choice other than following her own bargain. She saw that Mr. Chamberlain was close enough to ensure her safety should the questions anger the gentleman, but not close enough to hear. This would be between the three of them.

Lizzy would just have to live with the dissatisfaction of not being present to witness the _'someday' when Jane Bennet finally lost her temper._

"Very well Mr. Darcy, here are my three questions.  
Number 1: Why do you hate my family so much?  
Number 2: What have we ever done to you to deserve that? _And last but not least_  
Number 3: _What in the world have you done with my sister__?_"

She straightened her spine, just waiting for whatever assault the man was going to deliver, no matter how unpleasant it may be. This did not in any way leave her prepared for what she actual got, as the result was both unprecedented and quite alarming.

Mr. Darcy stared at her hard for half a minute, shook his head several times, took his head in his hands, sat down on the log behind him, and started to cry.


	12. Fallen Log

Jane Bennet and Mary Taylor, a gentlewoman and maid of all work presently wrapped in a greatcoat five sizes too big, simply stared at the most peculiar sight of one Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley, owner of half of Derbyshire (the miserable half according to Lizzy), sitting on a log and crying his eyes out.

A child crying, or young lady, or even a mother would be well within their range of experience. This, however, was plowing entirely new ground for both Jane and Mary.

Both women knew what everyone knew: namely that men were taught _not_ to cry. According to the accepted lore, the lessons were usually taught through the simple expedient of having all the males that knew them from the time they came off leading strings, taunt or beat them if they thought to do so.

Jane always thought it a peculiar type of weakness in men that prevented them from being able to acknowledge such 'weakness', and yet, the world was as it was, and not as she thought it ought to be. She did what she always did when confused: recalled a vision of her most sensible relative who always had something smart to say.

≈ _Always fall back on propriety and good manners Jane. Basic politeness. Basic manners. Neither are all that complicated when you get right down to it. Exit a chair for an elderly or injured person. Help a child or mother in need. Give a crying or ill person a handkerchief. Talk softly or loudly so you may be heard. Offer soothing remarks when they are called for. These little civilities cost you nothing and make the world work. Sooner or later you will be in a situation where you do not have the slightest idea what to do, so fall back on good manners and kindness, and hope someone else will return the favor when you are in need. ≈_

Aunt Gardiner was never a bad person to emulate or take advice from, and with Jane having not the slightest idea what to do, she fell back on long habit.

"Mr. Darcy, please take this."

She handed him a pristine handkerchief for his own use. He seemed both embarrassed and confused, but his manners made him take the proffered handkerchief almost reflexively. The master of Pemberley then used it to wipe his eyes and blow his running nose with about the same level of elegance anyone else could show with the disagreeable task. His bout of crying was just about over, and he was frankly glad to be done with it.

After offering his thanks, Jane saw Mr. Darcy stare directly between her and Mary with an unfocused gaze - sort of the look of a haunted man. Considering how often she had visions of Lizzy or Aunt Gardiner, she imagined one of the gentleman's ancestors trying to instruct him in a game of which he seemed to possess very little skill.

At long last, he got his eyes mostly under regulation, and replied, "I thank you, Miss Bennet. I will have this laundered and returned to you."

"Oh no, that is unnecessary, Mr. Darcy! The handkerchief is not even mine. Feel free to keep it."

Darcy examined it carefully and noticed one of the corners was initialed **EB**. He was puzzling that out, wondering if it was what he thought it was, when the elder Miss Bennet decided to take pity on him again.

"As I said Mr. Darcy, that one is not mine. It is Lizzy's… err, my sister Elizabeth. Should you ever be in her company again, you may return it if you feel the need, but she will never miss it. Embroidering them is one of our chief occupations, even though it is a pointless waste of time. Lydia steals at least one a week, so this one will never be missed, and Lizzy would not begrudge it anyway."

Jane watched carefully to see his reaction to the news and caught what looked like a look of pain as well as a brief flicker of smile wash across his face, before he managed to restore his normal demeanor, which would be considered stoic by Jane, and taciturn by Elizabeth. The gesture was so fast it could have meant everything or nothing, so Jane was inclined to just let it stand. She did notice that he seemed overly careful in folding the handkerchief and placing it in his inside vest pocket.

* * *

≈ _One of these days, my Son, one of these days, some woman is going to pull you off that high horse of yours. Your father has taught you to be overly proud of the Darcy name, and the Fitzwilliams are not known for piety or good sense either. I am afraid if you do not mend your ways, you will have a reckoning someday. __Listen well and mark my words my son__! It may take three or four women to do it, but some day, if you do not change your ways, you will rue your excessive pride. Continue as you are going now, you will wind up like my sister Catherine, wallowing in your own consequence, and just as unhappy. I only hope whoever brings about your reckoning will be able to see my __real__ son before 'tis too late. ≈_

It had been some time since Fitzwilliam Darcy had seen a vision of his mother talking to him. It almost sent him into tears again, seeing such a clear vision, apparently standing there right between Miss Bennet and Miss Taylor.

After Lady Anne Darcy died when Georgiana was three years old, Darcy saw her frequently and found her advice comforting, and entirely sensible. Somehow though, over time, both her visions, and he had to admit, her good sense, gradually faded away. The crush of responsibility, and the sheer terror of being hunted by matchmakers had gradually built up a shell of reserve that only a very few got through, and apparently, his mother's ghost was either disinclined or not up to the task.

With a sudden snap, Fitzwilliam Darcy had an epiphany. He thought, _'Until this moment, I never knew myself'._ His mother had been right, and Darcy now missed her council more than ever… but for the first time, it occurred to him that Jane Bennet had much in common with Lady Anne Darcy. Stand them to next to each other, as they had just appeared with his vision next to Miss Bennet, and they could pass for sisters much more readily than his mother could with her actual sister, Lady Catherine. Both ladies were tall, blonde and beautiful by the currently popular fashion. Both were serene and presented a very calm façade to the world. There remained to be seen whether they both had the same core of iron when he got right down to it. Had Mrs. Darcy survived childbirth to see her son grow up, she would no doubt have corrected him years ago, or if not, she would presently be standing next to him beating his head with a rock.

Once his crying was done, Mr. Darcy stood back up from the fallen log, and seemed to be staring between the two women as he collected his thoughts. In truth, he was simply watching his mother chastise him again, hoping to enjoy her vision perhaps one last time, or hoping to get some better advice from her. It made him wonder where his life had gone wrong, when the best advisor he had was many years dead. At what point had he let his conflicting vision of himself as a great and powerful man coupled with the insecurity of being thoroughly unable to even pretend to comprehend the fairer sex, drive him to behave so abominably? At what point had he lost all semblance of good manners, or even good sense? What had possessed him to make a proposal so bad to a woman he thought he loved, as to make her flee the county with nothing but the clothes on her back?

Neither the young lady from Hertfordshire, nor the young maid, seemed overly inclined to be the first to speak, so he finally took it upon himself to carry on.

"Miss Bennet; Miss Taylor. I very sincerely apologize for that ungentlemanly display."

Mary Taylor had for much of her life let her tongue run ahead of her mind, so she replied, "'Tis not a thing to be ashamed of, Sir. In fact, 'tis a good thing. I would count it something to take pride in and promising not to indulge in future just seems ridiculous to me."

Her mind caught up right after that to the fact that she had just chastised a very influential gentleman, perhaps the most consequential she would ever meet, so she blushed profusely, and then added belatedly, "My apologies Sor… T'aint my place to say. Please accept my humble apologies."

Several things came crashing into Fitzwilliam Darcy's confused mind right at that point. The first was that it was entirely possible that Miss Taylor was one of his mother's three or four women who might be responsible for pulling him off his high horse. If his mother's excessive pride theory was indeed correct, then there were exactly four. There was of course Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who very well might pull him all the way from his high horse into his grave as far as he could tell… _if he could ever find her._ His cousin Anne was obviously a willing participant in the endeavor. It seemed likely that Miss Bennet and Miss Taylor would make up the third and fourth. It seemed entirely appropriate… almost perfect… almost predestined.

Miss Taylor was an interesting woman. She was a servant, obviously not overly prosperous, but not in the least bit intimidated by him either. She had been a little bit embarrassed by saying something that was probably not exactly proper and had offered the humble apology that would be expected for a servant who had just spoken out of turn; but she certainly was not backing down. She had flushed for a moment, but the young maid was now back to staring at him just to see what he would say. He thought he should probably get on with saying something before the moment was lost.

"Miss Bennet, I am not avoiding your questions, but may I digress with Miss Taylor for just a moment. She has spoken with some very much appreciated candor, which is much more rare and wonderful than it should be. I find myself even farther in her debt, and I wish to reciprocate."

Jane Bennet, not entirely certain why she had asked her three particular questions in the first place and finding that losing her temper was not quite as diverting as you might think, was also not entirely certain she really wanted the answers. However, she was nothing if not resilient, so replied in her usual unperturbed verbal manner.

"I am at my leisure, Mr. Darcy. You can answer any time you like, or not at all. Meryton is no less accessible than it was ten minutes ago."

"I assure you Miss Bennet; I will answer your questions in a moment."

Jane Bennet just nodded her head, while Mary looked back and forth between the two. She was only slightly intimidated by the gentleman, because he certainly appeared to be a true gentleman, one whose word could be trusted. Any man who loaned her his greatcoat so he could climb under a coach to examine it was either a true gentleman, or at the very least a man obsessed with equipage. She simply stood calmly waiting to see what would happen. He would either answer, or he would not. She would either keep her position, or she would lose it and find another. There was little that Mr. Darcy was likely to do that would affect her life at all beyond the next few hours, and he was entertaining if nothing else.

The gentleman looked at her a little more directly than she was accustomed to, and asked, "Miss Taylor. I am already in your debt, but if you are willing to accumulate a bit more, I would ask that you tell me _why_ you think it is not only acceptable, but desirable for a gentleman to cry like a green boy."

Such language was certainly not what she expected from a gentleman, certainly not one of this man's stature, but he had asked nicely so she thought she may as well answer in kind.

"Well, Sor… It seems to me that a man who can cry is a man who can feel things. A man who can feel things, generally cannot be a man who beats a woman, or disrespects her, or is otherwise not a true man. Perhaps there are men who can both cry and do bad things, but I think a man can do one or t' other, but not both."

Darcy just nodded, and replied, "Miss Bennet, would you concur with Miss Taylor?"

Jane Bennet was not one to run off with wild flights of fancy, or answer a question without giving it some effort, so she thought about it for a few minutes. At length, she replied, "Yes Mr. Darcy, I think Mary might have the right of it. At least I suspect she is more right than wrong, but since I have never before seen a grown man cry, it is all just supposition. For all I know, you might beat your dogs and then cry about their pain… but I do believe Mary is mostly correct."

Darcy looked thoughtful for a moment, and asked, "Miss Bennet, would you object terribly if I yet again procrastinate on answering your questions, as I have another matter that might be helpful."

"As I said, I am quite at my leisure, Mr. Darcy. So long as Mary is comfortable, you may take all day if you like."

The little bit of impertinence, said with a soft smile, reminded Darcy of Elizabeth Bennet. It seemed the two sisters shared more than his previous acquaintance had indicated.

Mary replied, "This is my easiest day in the last month. I would hear what Mr. Darcy has to say."

Looking at the young maid, Darcy asked, "Miss Taylor, would you consider it terribly rude if I asked if you are married."

Somewhat startled, Mary replied, "Well, Sir… well…"

Stammering, she looked at him in consternation, a bit tongue tied for once.

Gently, he added, "I am on your side, Miss Taylor. You need not fear me, and you need not answer if it makes you uncomfortable. I would however appreciate it if you did, as I have a purpose in asking."

That surprised her so completely she had no idea what to do. Gentlemen were supposed to assume servants would trust them just because they were gentlemen, whether they earned it or not. There were exceptions, such as Mr. Gardiner, but by and large, she expected very little from the gentry in terms of treatment. Therefore, ignoring the impropriety of the question, which was not even usually something a gentleman would even know or care about, she thought she would just answer.

"No, Sir, I am unwed."

Darcy even more boldly asked, "And would you like to be? Forgive the extreme forwardness of the question, but if you are interested in matrimony, would you be willing to tell me what attributes you look for. Of course, if you are not, then I beg you to pardon my impertinence."

Wondering what in the world was prompting the question, Mary replied.

"Course, I would like to be… once'n I can afford it. There's not much of any women, servant or gentry as wants different."

"And in this husband, what do you seek?"

Mary was growing ever more confused by the man's questions but saw no real harm in answering.

"Well, sir. I would like a man that treats me well… as I would treat him. He should have a good situation, a clean and dry place to live and a good temperament. He should work in a house where the gentry act like gentlemen instead of animals. It would be nice to be able to afford someone to help around the house or with the little ones. Give me that and I shall be content."

Curiously, he asked, "Is that all you seek, Miss Taylor. Nothing more?"

She just laughed and replied, "_There is no more, Mr. Darcy._ Some of your starry-eyed young ladies that read one too many of them novels they like to rattle on about think about love and romance and suchlike. I never set much store by that. No amount of courtin' is really going to teach you much except how a man acts when he wants something and is on his best behavior. No, Sir! I believe you should wish to know _as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life._ Give me a good man with a good situation, and I shall be content."

Darcy scratched his chin and said the most surprising thing yet.

"Interesting… perhaps the hand of fate is at work, Miss Taylor. Let me ask you this, would you be interested in a stablemaster that shed tears off and on for a weak when his favorite hound who he raised from a pup died?"

Mary was starting to get flabbergasted by the entire line of questioning, and looked a bit frightened, but then remembered his promise, stood up straighter (thus lifting the bottom of the greatcoat a half‑inch off the ground), and replied.

"Sor, my father, rest his soul is dead. I feel no need to replace him."

Darcy just looked perplexed, and said, "I do not understand…", then he paused just a second and made both ladies jump when he smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.

As they stared at him, he chuckled and said, "Ah-hah… I understand the confusion. Most stablemasters are on the wrong side of forty. Well, Miss Taylor, I am thinking of a stablemaster who has but five and twenty years. Surely that is not too old for you."

Mary gasped in surprise, shook her head, and said, "How is such a thing possible?"

Darcy looked her directly in the eye and replied, "I know a man, Miss Taylor. His name is Robert Breton, an apropos name. His father was my father's stablemaster. He grew up riding beside me and the steward's son. We grew into men as boys are wont to do, and he became one of the best men I know, while the steward's son became one of the worst - but that is neither here nor there."

Jane gasped at the latter assertion, and Darcy looked at her and replied, "Yet another thing I must acquaint you with, Miss Bennet. You know of whom I speak?"

"I can surmise, Sir."

"Shall we table that discussion for later… presuming you are still talking to me in a half‑hour."

Jane quite surprised herself by laughing gaily, and replying, "Oh, I assure you we will. When I tell Lizzy that Mr. Darcy is more entertaining than the best play, she will… well, I have no idea what she will do… swoon most likely…"

She watched Mr. Darcy's countenance when she mentioned Lizzy's name, and saw something there that seemed interesting and worth following up. However, she thought they were getting somewhat scattered, so replied, "In a moment, Mr. Darcy. You should probably finish one conversation before you start another."

Darcy replied, "Thank you, Miss Bennet. I shall endeavor to do so."

Then he turned back and said, "My apologies, Miss Taylor."

She just giggled, and said, "No need, Sir. You lot are not the only ones as' can be entertained."

She ruined the effect by turning red and staring back at the ground, but Mr. Darcy was having none of that, so he broke protocol by lifting her chin up very gently with his knuckle, and said, "None of that, Miss Taylor. We are friends, no?"

Her eyes got big as saucers at that, and she said, "Friends?"

Darcy simply nodded, and said, "I very much hope so. Unless I am sorely mistaken, you are one of the four horsewomen."

Both ladies shook their heads violently, and Jane asked, "You seem to be off on yet another tangent, Mr. Darcy. It might have been faster for Mary and I to walk the ten miles."

She had said it with a smile, so Darcy returned the brightest smile yet, and Jane thought he might have sent Lizzy into an apoplexy if he had ever directed that smile at her.

Darcy said, "I imagine I should explain that?"

"Yes, that would be best."

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Cousin. I would very much like to hear you make any sense out of that.

The appearance of Anne de Bourgh out of what appeared to be thin air startled everyone, and they all jumped and then turned towards the newcomer. All four participants were staring at each other, but the most intent looks were reserved for Anne and Jane. Jane looked surprised, and Anne looked nervous, frightened and guilty.

The impasse was resolved after a few seconds by Jane letting out a yell sufficient for a charging army.

"_ANNIE! Where did you come from_?"

Then, much to the surprise and pleasure of all involved, Jane in a trice stepped the five paces separating her from Anne and wrapped her in a hug that would kill a bear.


	13. Darcy Coach

"Jane, I love that nickname. Please say you will use it forever."

"Of course, Annie. Lizzy sometimes calls me Janie."

The two friends seemed reunited as if nothing had ever happened, although quite a lot had. Mr. Darcy's assertion that Anne de Bourgh, despite a titled mother, being heir to an enormous estate and being fabulously wealthy did not have a single real friend except her two male lunkheaded cousins had seemed to Jane the saddest thing she had ever witnessed. Oh, Jane was nowhere near naïve enough to believe it was _really_ the saddest thing in the world, but she believed it was her right and privilege to feel bad about anything she wanted to feel bad about, and Anne's lack of friends was to her very important.

Jane's honest reaction to the woman that was in fact _her own first true friend_ made her feel like her Grandmother Gardiner was standing right behind Anne smiling in approval.

_≈ Janie, when someone is feeling bad, it does not matter if they are 'entitled' to their feelings or not… well, not really. Remember this, my girl. Feelings are Facts. What people feel drives what they do, and it can be as real to them as pain. If someone is feeling poorly, and you can make them feel better at little cost to yourself, then it is your right and privilege to do so. ≈_

She remembered the conversation from a day when she had come in grumbling that Annabelle Golding was whining and crying about some trifling thing Marybeth Long had said. Jane had hardly noticed the offense, but definitely noticed the reaction. She felt it had ruined their afternoon of play and complained bitterly to her grandmother about it. Grandmother Gardiner gave her a lesson in life, but mostly in _how she delivered the lesson_, and Jane never quite forgot it. She did not always live up to her ideal of behavior, but she did always try.

Meanwhile, as her grandmother nodded in satisfaction, her friend Anne smiled bright enough to dim the sun.

Her cousin Darcy, feeling either bold, impertinent or both, reached up with his balled fist, gave her the very lightest taps in the forehead, much more a caress than an assault, and said, "May I call you Annie as well?"

Still basking in happiness at her ready acceptance from Jane, she just nodded, and mischievously replied, "Of course, Lunkhead."

Once again, the ladies were treated to the sound of Fitzwilliam Darcy laughing his head off, before he replied, "I always thought you were beautiful Annie, but today you look extraordinary. Now, if you plan to keep that smile going, I will gather up Mr. Chamberlain and go put out the fire you are about to start in yon woods."

The entire group laughed at that for some moments.

Finally, Mary Taylor asked, "How did you just appear like that, Miss…"

She ran out of words when she realized she was addressing someone of real consequence that she had not even been introduced to, but Darcy said, "Courage, Miss Taylor. Annie here is your friend too… she is just not aware of that fact yet. I can assure you that the only person in this group likely get rapped in the forehead is me."

Then he stepped to a spot exactly halfway between the two women, and said, "Miss Anne de Bourgh, may I have the great pleasure of introducing you to my friend, Miss Mary Taylor."

Anne looked astounded at the entire operation. Miss Taylor was wearing Darcy's greatcoat, but she was obviously just a maid, and yet Anne had personally witnessed her cousin Darcy treat peers with less respect.

She followed his lead and gave the maid of all work a better curtsy than she would give her mother's closest acquaintances, while Miss Taylor had not the slightest idea what to do, so she gave the best she had.

Anne noticed the woman was a bit nervous, and belatedly noticed a bandage on her wrist that was bleeding through. There was no danger the young girl was going to bleed to death on the road, but common sense suggested there was probably a better place for their meeting.

Anne laughed, walked over to the young maid, and hooked their arms together.

"Miss Taylor, have you ever considered moving to India to take up snake charming? I understand it is quite profitable, and you obviously have a talent for it."

Darcy laughed along with everyone else, and even let out an adequate hiss. He then said, "As to your question, Miss Taylor, Anne learned to appear and disappear _very_ quietly when we were children. Let us just say she has a mother that makes such a technique essential. I have never once in the last fifteen years caught her when she did not want to be caught."

Anne laughed, and said, "I will teach you if you like, Miss Taylor… may I call you Mary?"

Mary seemed confused, and said, "Of course. To be honest, I have been confused this whole conversation. Mr. Darcy calls me 'Miss Taylor' but I am just a maid of all work. Everyone uses given names with downstairs maids."

Anne just looked at Darcy and cocked her eyebrow, and Darcy replied.

"I have not the slightest objection to enlightening you _Miss Taylor_. You show something my cousin, an Army Colonel, calls 'spunk'. It is a sort of reckless courage. You have right from the beginning treated me as an equal… or at least you do until you get frightened, and even that does not last long. I like it very much, so I call you Miss Taylor out of respect. I shall continue to call you that until you change it to Mrs."

All three women just shook their heads in confusion, but then figured Darcy could follow whatever conventions he liked.

Mary said, "I thank you for that, Mr. Darcy. I appreciate the honor. But for you Miss de Bourgh and you Miss Bennet, I still prefer Mary, but I would feel uncomfortable using your given names."

Both ladies smiled, but Anne continued, "Shall we continue this in the coach? I would explain how I sneak up on people, but in this case, your discussion is so intense I could have been delivered by Napoleon's seventh army and you would not have noticed. It was not one of my best efforts. I simply stood behind that bush over there until you were distracted."

Darcy asked, "How long have you been listening?"

Anne held out her hand, palms up, and said, "Give me that disgusting handkerchief, Cousin. I can at least rinse it out with water in the coach, while I anxiously await your answers."

Darcy laughed, while Anne whispered, "Do not worry. You will get _your Lizzy's_ handkerchief back."

Darcy grumbled, "She is not my…", but never managed to finish since Anne just stared at him until he stopped.

Anne pointed about a hundred yards down the road, and said, "By some strange twist of fate, your coachman had to stop there for a problem with the coach, and I did not notice your little meeting until I exited to stretch my legs. I believe he has probably repaired it now, so if you would signal him Fitzwilliam, we can continue our discussion in better comfort. It has four horses, so maybe you can tell us about the four horsewomen"

Darcy looked at Jane and said, "Miss Bennet? Are you willing to appear in Meryton in my coach?"

Anne just replied, "Oh, leave off, Fitzwilliam. While I applaud you working on your manners, and perfectly well comprehend Jane's problem with appearances, you are practicing on the wrong Bennet sister."

Jane gasped and put her hand to her mouth.

Anne said, "Oops!"

Darcy said, "Never mind. I am going to answer Miss Bennet's questions anyway, so let us at least get moving."

* * *

Jane thought the Darcy coach was the finest one she had ever been in, and Mary Taylor was certain. As much as Anne would have liked to sit next to her friend, it would have put poor Miss Taylor in an awkward position, so she decided to seat herself beside her cousin. Darcy noticed the care given to the arrangement, and whispered to her, _'Are you certain you are not adopted?'_

Anne laughed gaily, and Darcy rapped the roof of the carriage to move out. The group spent a few minutes settling in, then Anne decided to take charge for the moment.

William, by my count you are about halfway through any number of topics and finished with none. She started ticking them off on her fingers. There is A) the future Mrs. Mary, and then you have B) the four horsewomen, which I imagine will be some type of apocalyptic discussion, and then of course the almighty C) Janie's three questions.

Darcy replied, "You are confused on the horsewomen. The horsemen signal the apocalypse. I am hoping the horsewomen signal redemption and renewal."

All three ladies looked at him in some confusion, and Mary bravely asked, "Will you eventually start making sense, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy laughed, and a bit of tension was released.

Jane liked Annie's new nickname for her, so she smiled in approval, then added, "Do not forget D) Oops!".

Darcy tried his best to look scholarly, and said, "Well, Miss Bennet… that question is actually just another form of your _Number 3: What in the world have you done with my sister?"_

Jane just looked at him with a dawning realization, and her face got more and more surprised, before she finally practically shouted, "**You are in love with her!**"

Darcy, bowed from the waist with the best show of respect he could manage in a carriage, trying his best not to fall over in her lap, which would have ruined the effect, before continuing.

"Yes, I am, but there is much more to tell, none of which paints me in a good light… or in fact, even a less than very bad light."

Ignoring all propriety, Jane slid forward in her seat until her knees were less than inch from Darcy's, boldly reached over and took his hands, and stared him in the face for a good minute.

Darcy accepted the examination as her just due, and simply let the lady make her own assessment.

After some time, Jane released his hands, slid back into the seat, and asked, "Did you anger her or frighten her?"

Darcy sighed, and said, "Both. Confused her as well."

With that he could not look directly at her.

Jane's face became much harder and she asked, "Did you dishonor or compromise her?"

Darcy's face turned white as a sheet, and he shouted, "**NO**!" with a finality nobody could argue with.

Jane stared at him hard for another minute while Anne and Mary looked on, then sighed, and said, "I need a few minutes to ponder, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps you can move back to Mary or the horsewomen."

Darcy nodded, and turned to face Mary.

* * *

Darcy focused on Mary Taylor, and asked, "Miss Taylor, do you believe in fate?"

"Of course, Mr. Darcy. Life would be a sad and scattered affair if we could not believe in something beyond ourselves. I'll not be rattlin' on about it all day but do believe some things are meant to be."

Darcy smiled, and said, "Miss Taylor, let me tell you a bit about my friend Robert Breton. As I said, he is one of the very few men I trust implicitly. I can tell you there has been only one real incident where my family had something… _bad…_ happen, and that was when he was not about. To this day, I believe he would have prevented the occurrence had he been present."

"Are you to be a matchmaker, Mr. Darcy."

"Absolutely not! If you will permit it, I am to be an _introduction maker_. I will tell you this, Miss Taylor. You are quite certain to be one of my horsewomen, so I feel a sort of a familial responsibility for you. If you like Breton, all will be well, but understand this if you please. _If you do not, you need not accept him. I will introduce you to others until you are satisfied._"

All of the ladies gasped and stared at him, but it was only Anne who had the foresight to ask, "_Why, Cousin?_ I understand your attachment to Breton. I would snatch him up myself if I could, but why Mary? Much as I like her, you have had less than an hour's acquaintance with her."

Darcy looked around at all of them, and said, "Have you ever felt that something has a certain sort of _rightness _to it. Something that is so inherently _right _that to fail to do it would be _wrong_. Not just negligent, or a lost opportunity, but a _wrong…_ practically a crime_?_ To give it any less than your fullest and best effort would be cowardly and vile?"

The ladies nodded with some understanding, at least hypothetical understanding.

"Well, ladies. I feel this is _right_, and what is the point of being a powerful man if you cannot occasionally increase the amount of right in the world. I cannot balance the world's scales, but I can put my bit on the side of right. I have two friends who may or may not suit. It is not my place to decide, encourage or discourage; but I can help them decide for themselves."

Anne looked at him carefully, and said, "Who are you and what have you done with my lunkhead?"

Darcy just laughed and pointed at his forehead with his index finger. Anne obliged by rapping him a few times and the rest of the group laughed."

Turning back to Mary, Darcy said, "Miss Taylor… I spoke of fate. Breton will not allow me to increase his wage beyond what he feels is right and proper. I have made his quarters both in London and Derbyshire as good as I can, but I need to be sneaky about it. He is the most straight‑line man I know. When we were seventeen years old, he told me the amount of money he wanted to accumulate before he married… to the pound, and he started saving for that day."

Mary said, "All of that is to his credit, Mr. Darcy."

"I agree, and here is where fate comes into play. This very morning, I was talking to him for a time as he saddled up that horse you see over there. He casually mentioned that he had reached the figure. I asked if he had anyone he fancied, and he asked me for a favor. Keep in mind, this is a man who never asks for anything if he can help it. Breton did not know of anyone suitable, so asked if I might just keep my eyes open."

Mary looked at him with a bit of fire, and said, "So you just grabbed the first maid you happened to encounter, Mr. Darcy? Do you think so little of him?"

Alarmed, Darcy sat bolt upright, and said, "NO! I do not think so _little_ of him… I think so _much_ of you!"

"That is impossible, Mr. Darcy. We have talked for perhaps a dozen minutes."

Darcy leaned forward towards Mary, but abruptly turned towards Anne, and said, "Anne, is your memory still prodigious?"

"Of course."

Darcy chuckled and said, "I believe I am not communicating properly with Miss Taylor. Please repeat what you said about me in the stairway when we were lately at Rosings… the thing about language."

Anne thought a moment, laughed quite happily, and said, "Mary, my cousin wants me to relay something I said to him after he told an amusing anecdote. I said, and I quote, _'Truly William, after today I wonder that you understand the King's English at all. It is no wonder you scared poor Miss Bennet off!'_"

Everyone gasped, and Darcy said, "Thank you, Anne… although you might have saved that last part for a few minutes. At any rate, Miss Taylor. I am easy enough to misunderstand, or I must assume so since it happens quite regularly; so let me be clear. You are important to me. Breton is important to me. I think you might either get along or hate the very sight of each other. My track record with predicting such things is not auspicious, so I have given up on all attempts. If you wish to meet him, I will introduce you. If you do not, I will demur. It is up to you. There is no need not decide right now or even very soon. You have my card, and I will give you some coins for postage. Write to me if you want to meet him and I shall arrange it."

Jane laughed, and said, "My aunt is going to be vexed with you Mr. Darcy… again."

Darcy gave a small chuckle, and said, "That will put her in some good company, Miss Bennet. All of the finest women I know are vexed with me."

Jane laughed a bit, wondering what Lizzy would think of _this_ Mr. Darcy.

Darcy sighed, and said, "I imagine it is time to move on to the horsewomen then."

All three ladies nodded, and Anne said, "That might be best, William."

Miss Taylor added, "Mr. Darcy… I would very much like to meet your Mr. Breton."

With a huge smile, he said, "I will enjoy the privilege while I can, Miss Taylor. I suspect very soon he will be _your_ Mr. Breton."

Mary blushed beet red, but it was not enough to hide her beaming wide smile.


	14. Four Horsewomen

Darcy settled back into the corner where all three ladies could have both a good view of him, and an easy swing with their fans or whatever other weapon came to hand if necessary, then sighed and began.

"You wish to know of the four horsewomen. Well, first off, I must admit that I may be mad, because I sometimes see visions of people I have known as clearly as if they were standing right in front of me. Perhaps it is a vision, or more likely it is just memory playing a trick, because they usually just repeat something that they said to me in life."

Jane sat forward slowly, looked at him carefully, and said, "That happens to me, Mr. Darcy. Not often, but for example whenever I read a letter from Lizzy, I see her and hear her voice reading. I also have visions of my aunt or my grandmother from time to time."

Mary added, "For me, 'tis my 'da, or me brother as died five year ago, but I see the same things."

Darcy looked at Anne, who replied, "I always thought I might be mad, so never mentioned it."

Darcy curiously asked, "Who do you see, Anne. I see my mother, and please do not take this amiss, but I hope you do not repeat that habit."

Anne laughed a bit and said, "No, not either of my parents. I saw entirely too much of their advice in the waking hours. I see…"

She looked carefully at Darcy, and said, "Mostly I see Aunt and Uncle Darcy," at which point she blushed furiously, as if she were stealing something precious from her cousin.

Darcy laughed a bit, and said, "Please discard that morose look, Anne. I mostly see my mother or Aunt Matlock. You could make a very compelling argument that my mother came to you because she found me to be a hopeless case."

Everyone laughed about that a bit.

Jane said, "People do not talk about this sort of thing Mr. Darcy, mostly because they think others will think them daft. I assume nobody will ever mention this outside of this carriage."

Everyone nodded agreement, so Jane continued, "I know my sister Lizzy sees such things when she is distressed, and probably other times I do not know about. It has happened seldom, but there have been cases where she thought there were three or four people all yelling at her at once. It is most disconcerting."

Darcy asked, "Have you witnessed this? Can you tell when it is happening?"

Jane looked at him, wondering what he might have done to light up Lizzy's ghosts, and said, "I saw it once, but I shall not describe the scene. Her eyes lose focus and start staring at where all her visions are talking instead of the person she is talking to."

Jane watched Darcy carefully, and smiled faintly when she saw him nod in some remembered agreement.

Darcy blew out a breath, and said, "That happens to me as well. My mother used to give me good advice quite regularly, but as I got older and frankly less sensible, she appeared less often. I had not seen her for years until…"

Jane jumped ahead in her seat and said quite enthusiastically, _"You saw her standing between Mary and I, didn't you?"_

Darcy smiled at the memory, nodded, and said, "Yes, Miss Bennet, I did. It was wonderful and sad at the same time. It struck me that you two could pass for sisters."

Anne exclaimed, "**Yes!** I never put it together, but perhaps that is why we bonded so quickly, Janie."

Jane said, "Does that…"

Anne slapped Jane's knee quite forcefully, and said, "Do not finish that sentence. I am friends with you, not my favorite person in the world _before_ you. The fact that you look like her is either coincidence or the fate my cousin was talking about."

Jane smiled in happiness, and said, "Well then, Mr. Darcy. If I am to be the new vision of your mother, perhaps you should tell me the words she tried to pound into your head. With my able assistants, perhaps I can make a dent."

Darcy laughed, and wondered how so much laughter and so much heartache could exist in his breast at the same time, but replied, "I shall tell you the exact words she said there beside the fallen log."

He prepared himself, pitched his voice slightly higher for effect and repeated Lady Anne Darcy's long‑ago words.

≈ _One of these days, my Son, one of these days, some woman is going to pull you off that high horse of yours. Your father has taught you to be overly proud of the Darcy name, and the Fitzwilliams are not known for piety or good sense either. I am afraid if you do not mend your ways, you will have a reckoning someday. __Listen well and mark my words my son__! It may take three or four women to do it, but some day, if you do not change your ways, you will rue your excessive pride. Continue as you are going now, you will wind up like my sister Catherine, wallowing in your own consequence, and just as unhappy. I only hope whoever brings about your reckoning will be able to see my __real__ son before 'tis too late. ≈_

All three of the women were staring at him with their mouths open, so Darcy continued in his own voice.

"So, you see, Miss Taylor, Miss Bennet, Anne… it was fate. My mother spent all those years counseling Anne, while waiting for my heart and my mind to accept her word, and then naturally came to see me at the exact moment when I could identify the four horsewomen."

Nobody spoke for a moment, and finally Mary said, "You seem to be one horsewoman short, Mr. Darcy."

He just chuckled, and said, "Yes… she is apparently touring the Northern Country with her new friends. She may very well pull me all the way from my high horse to my grave."

Jane had previously leaned back into the squabs, so she leaned back ahead and took Mr. Darcy's hands again, wondering when her Aunt's vision would come back to chastise her about her complete and utter lack of propriety, or her mother's ghost would appear to egg her on to greater and greater feats of daring do since she was about an inch short of a compromise.

When she had hold of his hands, she said, "Why did she leave, Mr. Darcy? What did you say to her?"

Darcy stared down at their clasped hands, and said, "I am afraid Miss Bennet, that I made the worst proposal in the history of the English language, and then I told her that I admired her and loved her; and asked for her hand in marriage, after having insulted her abominably."

Jane gasped, and then a slow smile crept across her face. She paused a moment, then asked, "And how did she react?"

Darcy looked at her intently, and said, "She… well… now that you mention it…"

"Yes, Mr. Darcy. Remember her exact words and her exact manner. It may be important."

Darcy chuckled, but there was little humor in it, and said, "The words are easy enough. She did not say a word. Not… One… Word. Then she walked out of the parlor, put on her bonnet, picked up her reticle and pelisse, ran all the way to Hunsford Village and got on the first coach."

Jane gasped, but it was not in surprise. It was a sudden realization that everything now made perfect sense. She looked at the gentleman, and said, "Go on. That is not all."

Darcy said, "I did not piece it together until you mentioned her ghosts. For what seemed like several hours, but was probably a minute or two, she stared fixedly at a space about five feet to my left and gasped several times."

Jane nodded, and said, "Probably too many ghosts… It is odd though… very odd… completely unexpected."

Darcy squeezed her hands that were still held in his, and said, "What is odd, Miss Bennet?"

Jane had to shake her head to clear it before continuing.

"She must have had several ghosts advising her, and it seems almost certain that some of them were counseling her to just accept a life of ease and luxury and another chance to protect her family. She obviously eventually picked one and took their advice, but she took it from the very last person in the world I would have expected."

Looking confused, Darcy asked, "Who would that be?"

"Our mother."

Looking doubly confused, as if the concept of _anyone_ taking advice from Mrs. Bennet was too much to comprehend, and then stammered, "Mrs. Bennet?"

Jane nodded, still deep in thought.

Darcy asked curiously, "How could you possibly know that, Miss Bennet?"

Jane replied casually, "The advice she followed, Mr. Darcy. What an odd thing. She followed Mother's advice. Who would have thought… our mother!"

Darcy asked, "Could you be more _specific_ Miss Bennet?"

Jane saw his confusion and replied, "Very well, Mr. Darcy. This is important for you to understand. For as long as I can remember, my mother has been trying to 'correct' Lizzy's deportment. I have no idea why Lizzy is my mother's least favorite child, but it is so. There have been many different, often contradictory, bouts of advice, but the most common one is some flavor of this."

As Darcy had before her, Jane sat up straight, raised her voice to a screech and became her mother.

≈ _If you cannot say something nice, say nothing at all! _≈

Everyone sat looking at Jane, so she said, "My mother had a dozen variants of that."

_≈ If you cannot be pleasant, at least be silent! ≈  
_≈ _A true lady is polite and demure under all provocations! ≈  
_≈ _A lady does not raise her voice, nor say unkind or impertinent things! ≈_

Jane sighed, and added, "Lizzy was a bit impertinent, but mostly she is very intelligent and not willing to spend all day nattering about nothing, or listen to absolute nonsense without challenge, nor is she willing to appear to be stupid just to attract a man and makes no bones about it. All this quite vexes my mother."

Everyone paused for a moment, before Jane continued, "She probably pushed Lizzy over the top with her all‑time favorite."

≈ **_Well, Miss Lizzy Bennet_**_! If you cannot say something nice, say nothing at all and take yourself elsewhere until you learn to keep a civil tongue in your head! ≈_

Jane stared at her hands, and said, "It sounds like Lizzy must have latched on to that one."

Darcy's mouth was left hanging open for a moment, while Jane glanced back up and openly stared at him waiting to let the gentleman put two and two together, and hoping he came up with four.

He finally said, "She left to _avoid_ saying something _not nice__?_"

"Exactly."

Darcy looked at her in consternation, and asked sheepishly asked, _"How, not nice?"_

Jane looked pained, and said, "Unless her feelings changed significantly from the time the Colonel _boasted_ about your skill at pulling Mr. Spineless Worm away from me… which was less than four hours… I would hazard to guess we are contemplating _VERY-VERY NOT NICE!_"

Darcy hung his head, and Jane wondered if he was going to revert to crying again.

He took a deep breath, and said, "I imagine I should answer your first two questions then, Miss Bennet."

"You may as well."

"There is nothing wrong with your family our you, Miss Bennet. NOT A SINGLE THING! The fault is entirely mine. As my mother warned me, I filled myself with pride over my wealth, my position, my history, my family and my perceived superiority of mind… all of it complete nonsense when compared to your sister. In answer to your question number two, I convinced Bingley that you did not hold him in particular regard just because I listened to your mother boast about 'capturing' him loudly and publicly, then watched you for a few hours and saw no sign in particular regard in your eyes… as if any proper lady would let another man see that."

Darcy sighed.

Jane said, "Mr. Darcy, it _was_ arrogance and presumption to guide Mr. Bingley thus, but he is a man grown, and _he made his own choices._ I am now quite convinced that I am better off without him."

Darcy leaned forward and looked directly at her, and said, "The fact that it all worked out in the end does not mitigate the presumption and heartlessness of the act. I could have told him to abandon you but insist he come take his leave and do it like a man. No, Miss Bennet, your lack of censure does not mitigate the wrongdoing. I just do not believe it."

Jane gently asked, "What do you believe, Mr. Darcy?"

"I now firmly believe that _my arrogance, my conceit, and my selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events built so immovable a dislike_ for me in your sister_. _If she looked at me with implacable resentment and disgust, it would show nothing but good sense. _She never desired my good opinion, and I certainly bestowed it most unwillingly._"

He sighed again, and then continued, "Miss Bennet, I perfectly comprehend that Miss Elizabeth is probably lost to me, or at the very least, frightfully angry and probably afraid. She is just hiding in the North to gain her age of majority so she can say what must be said without fear of being forced into marriage."

With that admission, even Anne did not have the heart to say anything. Nobody could think of anything to alleviate his misery for quite some time.

After a good several minutes, Mary timidly asked, "Might'n I ask a question, Mr. Darcy?"

"Of course, Miss Taylor. You can ask any question of me at any time, for the rest of our natural lives."

Mary blushed a bit, and said, "All'a those things as-you says about _Fate_. Do you believe them? Am I to meet your Mr. Breton based on fate when you seems to have nary a hope for it yer-own-self?"

Darcy looked at her quizzically, so Mary continued.

"Listen to yer dear Mother, sir. You're just in despair acause you only have three of your horsewomen. You're not defeated… you're giving up."

Surprisingly, Jane laughed uproariously for a minute. Everyone else joined in just because they had no idea what else to do.

Finally, Jane said, "What was it you said, Mr. Darcy? _'I am hoping the horse__women__ signal redemption and renewal.'_ Are you so certain you are beyond redemption?"

Mary, not to be outdone, reached across and grabbed his hands that were already holding Jane's and said, "Are you to give up at the first obstacle, Mr. Darcy?"

Feeling much better, Darcy laughed and replied, "Only if that first obstacle happens to be my last breath."

Jane laughed, released his hands and leaned back into the squabs, saying, "Much better, Mr. Darcy… Much‑much better. I was not finding the hangdog whiney defeated Darcy very much to my taste, nor do I think my sister would think much of him. Prepare yourself, Sir. You have some courting to do."

Darcy looked surprised, and said, "Do you know where Miss Elizabeth is?"

Jane leaned forward and said, "Annie, rap this knucklehead a few times, please."

Anne just laughed, and said, "Consider it done."

"I fear that you have a very narrow‑minded idea of courting, Mr. Darcy. Your -what did you call it- 'selfish disdain' I believe, has offended nearly everyone Lizzy loves and respects for a ten‑mile circle. If you want _her_ love and respect, you need to court the good opinion of those of us that can convey that to her. It is either that or go North and ride around randomly looking for her."

Darcy stared at her for a few seconds, then a slow smile spread across his face before he replied.

"Miss Bennet… Miss Mary… Anne… Your words have _taught me to hope, as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I now know enough of your disposition to be certain that, had you _thought your sister _absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would now acknowledge it _to me and send me packing with my tail between my legs._"_

Jane laughed a bit, then sat back forward and looked at him intently, before saying "I can promise you nothing, Mr. Darcy, save my every effort to allow you to make a less abominable proposal."

"I shall follow your council to the letter, Miss Bennet."

Jane slid forward again and captured his eyes, and said, "As for the other questions, Mr. Darcy. _No more spineless worms!_ I find them distasteful. I have no idea whether I should severely chastise you for interfering in my courtship which was none of your business; or kiss you for pulling an inconstant man from me. In future, I would appreciate it if you let me make my own mistakes."

Darcy gulped, and simply nodded.

Jane smiled brightly, and said, "Cheer up, Mr. Darcy. Three of your horsewomen are on task… Oh, and one other thing you said was in error. Yours was not really the worst proposal in the history of the English Language. In fact, it was only the second worst proposal Lizzy received in the last half‑year. I believe Mr. Collins' proposal to Lizzy was worse, -and this is important- _my mother tried with every tool at her disposal to force Elizabeth's acquiescence._ Perhaps you will give my sister some clemency for running from you."

Darcy was shaking his head trying to order his scattered thoughts, from the absolute horror of the idea of _any man_, let alone Mr. Collins, being wed to _his Elizabeth; _to a final reckoning of just how much worse his error was than even he had believed.

He finally said, "I do not blame her from running from me, Miss Bennet. The fault was entirely mine, and so must the remedy be."

"No, no, no, no, no - Mr. Darcy. While I applaud your industry and desire to set things right, remember that your pride was what got you into this problem in the first place. You have friends… trust in us to set you to rights. I am no Lady Anne Darcy, but I do think I know a thing or two."

Darcy laughed, and said, "I shall follow your instructions to the letter. Speaking of instructions, would it terribly bother your uncle if I sent one of my maids from Darcy House to take Miss Taylor's place for a while so she can properly recover?"

Jane laughed, and said, "You just want her around to protect yourself from Anne and I."

Everyone laughed along with her, and he said, "In my position, would you not do the same."

Jane just smiled, and said, "We will help you, Sir."

Everyone nodded, and then Anne added one last thought.

"Oh, and Cousin… try not to stuff it up this time."

* * *

_A/N: There you go gang. The good news is I gave you 4 chapters and 14k words in one shot just because I didn't have the heart to break the scene. The bad news is you have now mostly caught up to where I'm writing so you may not get the next segment for a week or more._

_Fun Fact: Although I'm posting this as the fourth of my Propriety Series, it's actually the first one I started writing. I got the idea of no response at all from the proposal about maybe a year ago. I played with a few different formats, and then wrote the first ten chapters and put it aside for a while. I have a very specific ending in mind so the rest of the chapters should be reasonably fast. Of course, I'm on the fourth completely incompatible ending so far, so anything could happen. See you in a week or so. Wade_


	15. Longbourn

_A/N: Last chapter before switching focus. Hope to have another chapter up later this weekend. Wade_

* * *

"Mama, look! There is a very elegant coach in the driveway."

Kitty was sitting in a window seat trying to think of something diverting to do. The militia was to depart for Brighton in less than a month, and Colonel Forster had the officers seemingly busy from dawn 'til dusk. She had tried all the usual remedies and had almost gotten desperate enough to read a book or talk to Mary; but nothing worked until she saw the equipage.

Mary, for once tired of reading the same old book of sermons and making abstracts, quickly looked out the window with her sister _and they perceived a chaise and four driving up the lawn. It was too _late in the day _for visitors, and besides, the equipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbours. The horses were post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of the servant who preceded it, were familiar to them._

"Ooohhhh! It must be Mr. Bingley. We are saved!"

Mrs. Bennet was in fine form, thinking that it must be the wayward suitor, back from his mysterious 'business' in town, since Jane could not possibly be so beautiful for nothing.

The mistress smiled for just a moment, but then looked cross and said, "Oh, But Jane is not here. Oh, what will he think? Oh, why did I send her to town - wretched-wretched mistake."

Mary calmly replied, "If it were Mr. Bingley Mama, he would think what any sensible man would think… that Jane was either here or somewhere else, and if he wanted to talk to her he could just go to that other place. Of course, that presupposes him to be a sensible man, when all evidence is to the contrary."

"Oh, none of your prattling, Mary. You sound worse than Lizzy."

"It is simple logic, Mama. Oh, and I shall take the comparison to Lizzy as a compliment, so thank you."

"Hush, You!"

Mary would have felt bad about being shushed like a child, but after a dozen years of the same treatment, she never even noticed. She turned her head back to look at the coach and offered her observations.

"That is _not_ Mr. Bingley's coach, Mama. I saw it one day in Meryton, and it looks very different."

"Perhaps, he got a new coach."

"No, Mama. The driver and footman are liveried, and it does not match Mr. Bingley. No, I am certain - this is not Mr. Bingley."

By the time the speculation of the ownership of the coach was played out, the whole issue resolved itself when the footman jumped down from the back to open the door, and out stepped a tall gentleman.

_"There is a gentleman _stepping down now_, Mamma," said Kitty; "who can it be?"_

_"Some acquaintance _of your father _or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not know."_

_"La!" replied Kitty, "it looks just like that man that used to be with _Mr. Bingley_ before. Mr. what's-his-name. That tall, proud man._ The one Lizzy was always arguing with - even when they were dancing._"_

_"Good gracious! Mr. Darcy! – and so it does, I vow. Well, any friend of Mr. Bingley's will always be welcome here, to be sure; but else I must say that I hate the very sight of him."_

Mary, feeling brave once again replied, "Mama, it has been four months. Mr. Bingley seems unlikely to return, so perhaps you might want to consider being nice to Mr. Darcy. Lizzy is not here to drive him off… who knows, he might like someone else. Bird in the hand, Mama!"

The very idea of converting Mr. Darcy from a hateful man to a potential suitor should have taken but an instant, but it took some several seconds. By the time the idea worked its way to the level of inevitability, Mrs. Bennet looked out the window and saw Mr. Darcy hand down a very elegant lady, dressed in the finest day dress of the best materials.

Sighing in regret, she said, "Well, that must be Mr. Darcy's betrothed… although why he is bringing her to Longbourn I cannot comprehend."

A moment later, Mr. Darcy reached into the coach again, and handed down what looked like a maid, who was wearing an enormous greatcoat. Everyone knew he would need a maid along to maintain propriety, but the gentleman was acting very peculiar, even aside from the fact that his maid appeared to be wearing his coat. He smiled at the maid, and even said a few words to her, whilst holding her upper arm as if she might be unsteady on her feet. They had never observed the like before.

All the ladies gasped when the maid gave the gentleman a huge smile, and even laughed at something he said and patted him on the arm. The world was upside‑down and everyone in it had gone completely mad.

They watched in breathless anticipation as the gentleman reached into the carriage one more time, and handed down…

**"JAAANE!"**

Mrs. Bennet's ear‑splitting scream was only slightly less decorous than her three daughters, and it was probably loud enough to be heard by the people exiting the coach, since Jane's head snapped around to see them at the window. However, Jane was not perturbed by the ruckus as it was a perfectly normal greeting at Longbourn, and she just smiled and waved.

All four ladies scrambled to straighten their skirts and clean up the clutter as the visitors were seen in and divested of their outerwear. Mr. Bennet even deigned to join them to see what all the fuss was about.

Less than a minute after all were settled very demurely (for Bennets), the door opened and Mr. Hill, the long‑time butler ushered them in.

He was prepared to announce them, but Jane said, "Thank you, Mr. Hill. Let us not stand on ceremony. I will introduce my friends."

Looking completely stoic and professional, he said, "Of course, Miss Bennet," and would have gotten away with it just like a proper butler if he had not winked at her and grinned at the last minute when nobody was looking.

Jane winked back, then walked into the room, drew a deep breath, and began the battle.

"Papa, Mama, Mary, Kitty, Lydia… I hope you will excuse me if I ignore precedence in favor of being less confusing. First off, I would like you to meet my very particular friend, Miss Anne de Bourgh. She is Lady Catherine's daughter, and the heir to Rosings. We have become quite close over the last little bit. Annie, my father, Mr. Bennet, my mother, Mrs. Bennet, and my sisters, Mary, Catherine and Lydia, although Catherine generally goes by 'Kitty'."

Kitty and Lydia managed to refrain from giggling, just barely, and executed almost proper curtsies.

Anne said, "Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, Miss Mary, Miss Catherine, Miss Lydia… it is so good to finally meet you. Jane has told me so much about you, I feel as if I know you already."

At the end of that, all three were hanging with their mouths open. There had not been a single mention of Jane acquiring a new friend, let alone such a rich and important heiress.

_≈ Claiming some familiarity with people beyond what you already know is a good way to fit in but do it carefully. It is easy to get caught out on the fib, but if you can pull it off, people will want to believe you and will make it easier for you to be accepted. It is all in your attitude, and how respectful you are to the new acquaintances. ≈_

Anne was quite happy to see one more vision of Lady Anne Darcy and smiled at Darcy with a nod that told him his mother was alive and well… er, actually dead and well, but why quibble.

Once everyone had curtsied, Jane continued, "Mama, I hope you do not mind, but I have invited Anne to stay with us for a short while. I thought she might occupy Lizzy's place."

Mrs. Bennet turned red, and said, "**WHAT!** It is not to be thought of. In case you have forgotten, Lizzy sleeps with you. No, she must have the guest room!"

Anne was staring at Jane in wonder, while Jane was having the time of her life. She simply replied in as unperturbed a manner as possible, "No, Mama. That room must be reserved for Mr. Darcy. You do remember him from last Autumn, I would hope. He is Anne's cousin and he was volunteered to chaperone Anne for her visit. Do not worry. He is quiet as a mouse and does not eat much."

Everyone in the room stood stock still, unable to move or think, while Jane just stood there smiling. All gave her a good and complete stare just to be certain she was in fact Jane, and not Lizzy, since that sounded exactly like what her sister would say.

Mr. Bennet finally broke the impasse by laughing quite loudly, and proclaiming, "I stand corrected. I used to think you were the beautiful but agreeable daughter, Jane. Now I see you are the clever one… and Mr. Darcy… why, I believe he will be an even better visitor than the most recent occupant."

He watched Mr. Darcy carefully and was quite surprised to see the gentleman break into a grin, and then laugh a bit. This naturally set Anne, Jane and Mary all to laughing, while the rest of the Bennet family just watched in confusion.

While the laughter was dying down, Darcy replied, "I shall do my level best to improve on Mr. Collins, Mr. Bennet. He sends his regards, by the way."

Mr. Bennet laughed, and said, "Now, Jane… a point of clarification. You said, _'was volunteered'_ instead of _'has volunteered'_. Did you misspeak?"

Jane smiled, and said, "My apologies for not speaking clearly, Papa. I perhaps should have used the longer form, _'was ordered to volunteer.' _Is that better?"

Mr. Bennet laughed along with Darcy, and said, "Welcome to the world of female relations, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy joined in and said, "My thanks, Sir. I understand you to be a world-renowned expert."

After a moment, the laughter died entirely out, and Mary Bennet asked, "We all know Mr. Darcy, but who is this with you?"

The presence of a maid traveling with a lady was nothing too surprising. What was astounding was that this appeared to be an ordinary maid of all work, not a lady's maid. Even more astonishing, she had come to the drawing room with the gentry instead of going straight off to the kitchen to talk to the housekeeper.

Anne took Mary's arm, and said, "This is my good friend, Mary Taylor. She is my lady's maid, but is new to the profession, so I am wondering if any of you might be able to help her with hairstyles and gowns and the like? I have not even had time to refresh her wardrobe yet, so perhaps you could assist with that as well? I presume you are on good terms with the local dressmakers."

Mary Taylor looked at her and started to speak, but Anne winked at her, and she desisted.

Mary Bennet said, "Well, I welcome another Mary into the house, but should we call you Miss Taylor to avoid confusion?"

Mary surprised everyone by saying, "Yes, that will be fine. Mr. Darcy calls me that anyway."

Lydia, never one to let an opportunity for foolishness pass, said, "La, Mr. Darcy talks to you. I can imagine that is very dreary."

The whole room became instantly silent, and Lydia stared around saying, "What did I say?"

Mr. Darcy stepped into the breach, and said, "Yes, Miss Lydia… I do talk to my friend Miss Taylor, and I would appreciate if you might assist her in her new responsibilities. I must however agree with you on one point. Talking to me is often quite dreary, so I shall depend on you to cheer her up after she finishes with the disagreeable chore."

Lydia, completely surprised that the man could make a joke, or that he would ask her for anything at all, did the only proper thing. She started giggling, which prompted Kitty to join her.

After a moment, both sisters said, "We will all be quite happy to help her, Mr. Darcy."

Then she turned to Mary and said, "How long have you been a lady's maid, Miss Taylor."

Mary grinned and replied, "You tell me. You saw the promotion! I was a maid of all work when we entered the room."

Lydia jumped up and down a few times, and said, "La, we will have so much fun. Come along."

Then she grabbed Mary by the arm and started to pull her.

Mary winced loud enough for even Lydia to notice, and she turned back and looked at her wrist. Seeing the bandage soaked in blood but apparently not likely to be fatal, she gasped, and said, "How did you get Jane's embroidery on your wrist. It is the best thing any of us have made in our lives."

Mary Taylor looked at Jane and whispered, _'Hideous?'_

Jane just laughed, and said, "Lydia, we suffered a bit of a mishap on the way here. I shall tell you all about it at dinner, but I would appreciate it if you cleaned that wound up with gin and salve… all the gin on the wound if you please… and a new bandage. Just pretend she's Lizzy who just fell out of a tree, or a barn, or a woodpile, or…"

Lydia laughed and said, "Of course. We are not nickninnies. Come along MT."

With that, the two youngest Bennet girls flounced from the room with Mary Taylor in tow, and the level of noise reduced considerably.

* * *

Darcy turned back to the others and said, "Mrs. Bennet, I believe your daughter surprised you with my presence. I would be happy to stay at the inn if it is inconvenient."

Mrs. Bennet looked like she was going to have an apoplexy, and said, "THE INN! THE INN! NOT ON YOUR LIFE! It is inconceivable! It is no trouble at all, Mr. Darcy, although there is no way we shall have fresh fowl or fish for dinner."

Darcy quite surprised her by chuckling, and said, "Anything will do, Mrs. Bennet. I always heard you set a fine table at Longbourn and enjoyed it on the two occasions I dined here previously. Whatever you have will be fine, and on the morrow, perhaps Mr. Bennet and I could go hunt at Netherfield. I have permission to do so."

Anne joined in, and said, "I have never shared a bed before, Janie. Do you snore?"

Everyone burst into laughter, and Darcy smiled from ear to ear seeing this side of his cousin coming out. He had known perfectly well that it was there all along but had wondered for years whether anyone other than his cousin Richard and he would see it. Privately, he gave it a month before Lady Catherine would be afraid of her daughter, rather than the reverse which had been the pattern of their lives.

Jane and Anne moved closer to each other and to Mrs. and Mary Bennet, to start a conference about ladies' topics. Darcy stood back watching the conference with amazement. He was quite enjoying the sensation, when he heard an unexpectedly quiet voice right next to him.

"Quite an amazing sensation to be completely insignificant, eh, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy looked at the man and thought he detected a bit of the wit that must have instructed his Elizabeth's character, and thought he just might like the man on his own merits.

"Yes, Mr. Bennet. I must confess that I have never been so thoroughly cast out, rebuffed and ignored in my life. I believe I am less significant than that cat over there. I find I quite enjoy it."

Bennet chuckled, and said, "The hunting horns will blow soon enough, but you are safe for the moment. What say you to some sherry and a game of chess or backgammon, Sir?"

"It would be my honor and pleasure, Sir."

Bennet just laughed, and said, "Go easy on the courtesy, Mr. Darcy. It is best to build yourself up slowly in such exertions."

Darcy looked chagrined, and said, "I assume you are aware I have a debt of civility to this neighborhood to make up, Sir."

Bennet stopped, looked carefully at the man, and said, "So… My Lizzy took you to task, did she?"

Darcy looked carefully, trying to work out what the man knew or suspected, and finally said, "In a manner of speaking, yes… although you may be overlooking another daughter who is not as averse to instruction as you might suppose."

Mr. Bennet looked startled, and said, "My Jane?"

Darcy smiled, and said, "Yes, Sir. I do not recommend her bad side… nor Anne's, for that matter."

Bennet chuckled, and said, "So, are there _any_ women of your acquaintance who have not taken you to task recently?"

Darcy stared at the gentleman for a moment, raised his finger in the air, put it back, raised it again, dropped it again, and finally said, "No, now that you mention it, I am afraid not."

Bennet chuckled, and said, "Let us repair to the study, Mr. Darcy. I am curious, Sir. Do you have any idea where my Lizzy seems to have scurried off to?"


	16. Moorlands

"Lizzy, does this not make you extremely nervous?"

"No, Margie, it does not. Perhaps it should, but it does not."

"I must own that I am petrified."

"You need not stay, Margie. I am perfectly well here by myself and would never wish to push you to do anything you do not want to do."

"Who says I do not wish to do it?"

"That's the spirit!"

Elizabeth was quite enjoying standing high on a red rock cliff in the Moorlands of Derbyshire, looking over a landscape that looked both dead and vibrantly alive, boring and fascinating, light and dark, all at the same time, while the wind whipped her dress and hair into a frenzy.

The cliff face she was standing on was red rock of some sort, and she looked over a windswept valley that looked like another world. There were wide swaths of purple, yellow and blue flowers seemingly laid down with an artist's brush just for her pleasure. The land was segregated with roads that she had read dated back to Roman times, and the legend is that the Romans just built on tracks that had already been in wide use for centuries or millennia. Some areas were dotted with lakes, and wide swathes of grasses of all colors of the rainbow. The valley floor was dotted with small hillocks that seemed like they could be homes for elves, dwarves or some other fairy folk.

Climbing up from the valley, the view was surrounded by other rocks and cliffs much like the one she was standing on, but in other colors from grays to reds to blacks. It truly was a magical place, and she wanted to drink it all in.

She thought about Margaret's fear, which was an entirely appropriate response to standing in high winds on a cliff face, and naturally her father appeared in front of her to pontificate on the matter. Sometimes Elizabeth wondered if her father ever did anything _but_ pontificate or read books in preparation for later pontification.

_≈ You will find Lizzy that fear, and rationality are only peripherally connected. People are afraid of things that are quite safe rationally, and completely unafraid of things a sensible person would run from in horror. Spiders and snakes are rarely dangerous but frequently frightening. Riding a horse is rarely frightening but always dangerous. It is quite a conundrum. And this does not only apply to fear. It is worthwhile remembering that many, if not most, of our thoughts and actions are driven by emotion, and if it happens to match up with our rational thinking, we use the logic as a convenient excuse to go along with the feeling. Most of the time it works out because our feelings are far more sensible than our rational minds, but occasionally, you will have to step back, think carefully and determine which is to be master and which slave. ≈_

Mr. Bennet's ghost was similarly enjoying the thrill of the place, coupled with the pleasure of a good (and lengthy) lecture well‑delivered, although the wind obviously had no effect. Her friend Margaret Wythe, on the other hand, was looking much less certain about the operation, but was bravely sticking it out as if to prove to herself and the world that she could.

Elizabeth was often conflicted about her father, thinking he did not do all that a patriarch ought. Sometimes she believed that she and her sisters were given none of the tools they needed in life save a headstrong personality; but at other times she thought that was the best gift parents could possibly give. She had narrowly dodged two offers of marriage, with varying measures of disagreeableness, through nothing but pure willfulness. While she as not _quite_ so adamant against being Mrs. Darcy as she had been, a dream of being Mrs. Collins could still make a dead woman wake up in her coffin screaming.

For the moment, Elizabeth was willing to give her father the benefit of the doubt, and perhaps give Margaret some of the benefit of her father's insight. Their discussions about her family over the previous weeks had all been an unusual combination of vague and specific. Margaret would probably recognize and accurately name any of her sisters if exposed to them, but everyone had been careful to refrain from asking any overly awkward or specific questions.

Lizzy looked at her friend, looking quite frightened but determined to stick it out, and decided to talk to her.

"It is most peculiar, Margie! On the one hand, you are quite correct to be afraid – terrified if that works better for you. Any sensible person would be. However, perhaps you can look at it another way. Would you care to discuss it, or just leave? Certainly, nobody would fault you for it."

"I am all ears, Lizzy."

Elizabeth chuckled, wrapped her arm around her friend, and said, "You see, my father taught me that emotion drives much of our behavior, with rationality playing a second fiddle, being at best able to direct the emotion from time to time. It is an idea that has been around since the ancients. Does that make sense?"

"Vaguely, Lizzy."

"Let us try rationality for just a moment. What happens if the worst comes about; the wind shifts or we lose our footing, and one or both of us tumble off the edge?"

Margaret turned a bit paler, and said, "I should think we would be bashed into a thousand pieces, but we would only mind the ones that came _before_ the one that killed us."

"Exactly. Now, what are the _real_ chances of that happening?"

Margie looked around fearfully, and said, "I suppose not all that high. It is more likely than if we were standing back down the path with my more sensible parents, but not so _very likely_ in rational terms."

Lizzy nodded, and said, "More sensible, indeed. You do know that I quite like your parents. Your mother is quite something, and I admire her immensely. Your father is as clever and sensible as mine on his good days but is far more industrious. By all rights, I _should_ be quite jealous of you because your parents are superior to mine in every rational way, and yet I am not."

Margaret gave a bit of a laugh, and said, "This applies to falling off this cliff how?"

Elizabeth laughed and said, "Well, do you ride?"

"Yes, I love horses. It is one of my favorite things."

"Do you run, trot, jump?"

"Oh yes, all of those things."

"And when you are running your horse, feeling the wind in your hair across a field, what are the chances he will step in a rabbit hole, get startled by a rabbit or deer, or just lose his way or get a twitch, sending you tumbling through the air?"

Margaret gave it some thought, and said, "I see your point. It is at least as likely as the wind shifting and knocking me over that edge, and probably more so, since I am riding on an animal with its own feelings and quirks across terrain that I did not personally inspect."

"Yes, that is it! You will be on this edge for perhaps twenty minutes during the whole of your life, but hour upon hour on the back of a horse; and yet you are afraid here and not there?"

Margaret gave it some thought, and said, "I see your point. It makes no sense to be afraid here."

"Ah, but therein lies the thrill. I can come up here and _experience_ the fear, because I can let my rational mind convince me it is as safe as riding in a carriage, which it is… but my mind is as tempted as yours to be terrified. I can control it enough to enjoy the experience. I have done similar things often enough that I do not get to the edge of terror as I did when I was younger, but I still experience the thrill."

Margie laughed, stepped away from Lizzy and let out a loud whoop while waving her hands in the air.

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "That is the spirit! Now let us enjoy the rest of the few minutes we have before your entirely sensible parents panic and call us back to responsibility and sensibility."

Margaret laughed, and both girls walked right up to the edge, and peered over it as if the secrets of life itself could be found in the depths of the red rock of the canyon.

Twenty minutes later, they were back on their way to meet with their sensible companions. Mr. and Mrs. Wythe were as predicted nearly into a full panic. Mr. Wythe had almost gotten to the point where he might put his pipe out before it was fully empty of tobacco and might even have had the radical thought to put down his book. Mrs. Wythe looked like she might even have quartered an apple with one portion smaller than the rest. It was terrible.

"Well, ladies… I see you enjoyed your excursion?"

"Oh, yes, Papa. Lizzy and I were talking about emotions versus rationality. It was very interesting."

"My father and I discussed it, Mr. Wythe."

The father chuckled, and said, "I would hope to meet your father, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth smiled and said, "You know of course you are all welcome at Longbourn any time. Perhaps you can leave Margie in my care sometime?"

Mrs. Wythe had not heard of the nicknames before but nodded in appreciation. It seemed that her Margaret's desire for an intimate friend was being well satisfied.

Twenty minutes later, they had enjoyed a small repast, and were in the carriage heading back south, towards the village of Sudbury and the Haddon Estate.

* * *

_A/N: Yes, I perhaps overuse diminutive names, but __Margie__ has a history. My mother is named Margaret, and went by Margie all her life, so I just borrowed it. (HI MOM!)  
Wade_


	17. Farmer's Rest

The group was in the middle of a very nice dinner at the Farmer's Rest Inn. They had been served pheasant and potatoes with fresh vegetables form the local market and were engaged in enjoying a traditional dessert of cobbler and milk or wine.

Mr. Wythe asked, "So, Miss Bennet. You mentioned your father taught you about the ancients. Do you find discussion of such topics _puts off_ certain classes of gentlemen?"

Elizabeth replied somewhat cautiously, "Perhaps."

He laughed, and said, "Miss Bennet, I have been about in the world for quite some time. I believe there are many men who prefer their women to be less educated or less clever than themselves, because it allows them to feel superior."

Elizabeth looked at him suspiciously, and said, "You do not believe men to be superior?"

He chuckled, and said, "Perhaps I am either a modern man or a throwback to another time, but I do not believe it to be so. Men are better at things they are taught to be better at, while women are better at the things _they_ are taught. I believe if you reversed the course of education you would get quite a different result, but I very much doubt that experiment will be done for some time, if ever."

"So, you are not offended by _impertinent women?_"

Mr. Wythe just looked at his wife, smiled broadly, and said, "Not in the least, my dear. May I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course."

"Did Lady Matlock discuss my business with the estate?"

Elizabeth looked at Mrs. Wythe, who just nodded, and said, "Yes, she said that she was 'not supposed to know about such things' but that her wool income doubled under your stewardship."

Mr. Wythe laughed a bit, and said, "Yes, she would say that. Did she mention that I follow _her orders_ to the letter?"

"No, she did not feel compelled to disclose that to a complete stranger."

Mr. Wythe chuckled, and said, "From that, what would you conclude about the Earl?"

"That he is either a very lazy or a very sensible man… most likely the latter."

"Why?"

"Because he has enough sense to stay out of her way."

Everyone around the table laughed, and Mr. Wythe said, "That is funny, but very close to the truth, Miss Bennet."

"I do not doubt it for a moment."

"So, I believe you understand that you can trust us to not disparage you if you know more than I do?"

"I do not know more than you do, Sir. That much is obvious. I may know a few things you do not, but never would I compete."

Mrs. Wythe said, "Of course not, Dear. We do not believe you to be in any way deficient, nor do you have excess pride or excess humility… at least no more nor less than the rest of us. We just wanted to be explicit."

Elizabeth smiled, and thought that the was going to be very sad when she parted company with the Wythes.

Mr. Wythe said, "So, now that we are all on equal footing, tell me about the ancients."

"Truly?"

"Truly. I am interested."

Elizabeth sat back for a moment, and said, "Well, it goes back to Plato and Aristotle, although many others thought the same or similar thoughts that have been lost to time. He mentioned the Babylonians and Buddhists and said there were many others who studied similar lines of thought, but written records did not exist or did not survive."

"Educated man, your father."

"Yes, Sir. Plato believed the mind consisted of basically three parts. _Logistikon_ is the intellect, the seat of reasoning and logic; _Thumos_: dictates emotions and feelings; _Epithumetikon_: governed desires and appetites. What we call thinking, reasoning, feelings and actions are all just different parts of the mind alternately competing for dominance or cooperating."

"Yes, I am familiar with that, though his pupil, Aristotle favored the idea of only two."

"Yes, he believed the latter two were essentially the same thing, thus breaking thinking into reason and emotion… more or less. My father imagines learned men will still be arguing about it centuries hence, with each generation picking a number either greater or lesser than their immediate ancestors just because they can."

Everyone around the table laughed, and Elizabeth said, "It came up today when Margie and I were talking about fear. Standing on the cliff face feels terrifying, with _Thumos_ in control, but rationally it is less dangerous than riding a horse, or even in a carriage, according to _Logistikon. _In this case, logic can override emotion, but frequently it is the other way, with emotions deciding our actions and logic selectively examining the facts to come up with an explanation that makes sense."

The entire idea lit a fire of conversation around the table, and Lizzy felt like she was in the middle of a debate in Plato's Academy. A spirited discussion lasted through the desserts, and into tea time.

Finally, nearly exhausting the topic and feeling exhilarated, conversation wound down.

Mr. Wythe said, "Miss Bennet… we have canvassed fear, greed, desire and other emotions. What about the most misunderstood of all, what of Love?"

Elizabeth sat still for a moment, while her companions gave her time to think.

"Well, that one is definitely the most misunderstood. Perhaps it is because it is the most powerful. What will a parent not do for love of a child, or a man or wife for a beloved spouse? Why do some people experience a feeling so powerful it would be crippling to be denied its expression, while the next person never feels any more affection for any living person than a hound? I cannot pretend to compete with the poets for an explanation."

Mrs. Wythe said, "Of course, you cannot explain it, Dear. None of us can, but we were wondering if you see any connection between rationality and love?"

Elizabeth thought about it for some time, and finally replied.

"Well, some people marry for practical reasons, but love develops on its own, while others do not, or worse yet come to despise each other. Perhaps those who do fall in love in practical marriages rationally decide to push their emotions in the proper direction, allowing Logistikon to influence Thumos over time. Or perhaps, falling in love with a partner who is at least lovable may be the most rational reaction and will happen automatically to any sensible person. Perhaps Thumos is more resilient and less particular than we might have thought, and love is the inevitable result of exposure over long periods to a person who is somewhat lovable."

Margaret said, "Yes, that is but an extreme example. Can you think of others?"

Elizabeth raised her finger to speak, and suddenly, her voice stopped mid‑word, and nothing came out for a moment.

Mrs. Wythe asked gently, "Are you all right, dear?"

Elizabeth nodded, incapable of speaking, and said, "Yes, I am fine. I just thought of something. It is embarrassing to admit to it though."

Mr. Wythe said, "You need not share anything too personal, Miss Bennet. We neither demand it nor expect it, but occasionally a burden shared is a burden halved. Forgive me for saying it, but you have always seemed like you were carrying a burden since we met you."

Elizabeth laughed a bit of a discordant sound, and said, "You mean you very astutely detected something was amiss when you found me sans luggage in the stage stop in Bromley, without any money, and a peculiar desire to avoid all of my relatives' homes and the parsonage I had just left?"

Mrs. Wythe slid forward in her chair and took Elizabeth's hands, and said, "Well, that much was obvious, but we were not distressed by it."

Curious, Elizabeth asked, "Why were you not? I have always wondered that. It was completely improper, impulsive and impolite, yet you went along with the scheme. Why?"

Mr. Wythe slid forward in his chair, and while he would not be so improper as to take Elizabeth's hand, he did put his hand on his wife's wrist, as she held Elizabeth's hand. Margaret immediately slid forward but was not quite so timid, so she joined her hand to her mother's and Lizzy's.

Margaret said, "Lizzy, my father will not boast, but he is successful in his business because he understands people, quickly and efficiently. He trusted you because you are trustworthy."

Mr. Wythe said, "Here is a good lesson in negotiation, Miss Bennet. The first thirty‑seconds of any negotiation will usually tell you more than the several hours that follow. It is your one true chance to size each other up without the blinders built up from the previous half‑minute. _This is important. First impressions __can__ tell you a lot about what will happen, but they can just as easily fire you in the wrong direction like a cannon blast_. Any businessman needs to learn _which _first impressions to keep, and which to amend. You did well upon your first impression, and subsequent observation revealed your character. Nothing in these weeks has changed that first impression, but I have spent a lifetime studying the art, so I trust mine, but am willing to amend them as I learn more."

Elizabeth sighed, and said, "I always trusted my first impressions as well, but I have lately come to doubt them."

Mr. Wythe said, "Well then, Miss Bennet. Perhaps it is time to allow _Logistikon _some opportunity to work on _Thumos_. If your emotional mind is confused, let your logical mind take a crack at it."

"How is that to be done?"

"When I was apprenticed to my father, we would sit down after any negotiation and discuss what happened in the minutest detail, trying to separate reactions to our antagonist from reactions to our own prejudices; and our feelings from facts, opinions from instincts. It took some time, but if you give your vaunted _Logistikon_ the time and patience to work through the whole affair, start to finish, you may be surprised by the results.

Elizabeth sat back in her chair, blew out a deep breath and thought about what he had said.

Finally, she said, "Would you be willing to stand in for your father in that exercise, Mr. Wythe."

The gentleman chuckled, and said, "Of course. I have been dying to find out what that lunkhead did to make you run off with just the clothes on your back, but we would never invade your privacy by asking."

Elizabeth sighed, and said, "You just assume it is a problem with a man?"

Mrs. Wythe said, "It usually is, Dear."

Mr. Wythe said, "Yes, my dear. If I surveyed one hundred men about their most vexing problems in life, ninety-eight of them would assert it is a problem with a woman."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Well, the problems are at least symmetrical."

"Yes, Dear. They are. Now, we are happy to listen if you wish to talk."

Elizabeth sighed and said, "Well, there is just one problem."

"Which is?"

"When I met you in Bromley, I would have agreed with you one thousand percent that I had a 'lunkhead problem' as you call it."

"And now?"

"Now, I still do, but I am not certain which of us is the lunkhead."

"Do not make yourself uneasy, Miss Bennet, but if you wish to talk, we wish to listen."

Elizabeth sighed mightily and began her tale.

"Well, as you surmised, the problem is with a gentleman. My first impression was NOT auspicious. The first words he said within my hearing were _'She is tolerable…'"_

An hour later, the entire story had been told from the ignominious beginning to the mortifying proposal.

"And then… well, I do not actually know if I should be proud or shamed, but I _panicked_. I, who pride myself on my self‑reliance and rationality, just panicked. I had every person I ever met shouting instructions to me, and I finally just turned and ran."

All three of her companions were staring at her mouths slightly ajar in surprise and sympathy.

Mr. Wythe said, "So two abominable proposals in four months. That may be some sort of record, Miss Bennet."

Everyone chuckled a bit, with a release of some of the tension in the room.

Mrs. Wythe asked, "Did you say _anything_ to the so‑called gentleman?"

Elizabeth blushed beet red, looked down at her hands, and said, "Not a word. That is the shameful part. I… I… well… I…"

She blew out a huge breath, and said, "I have a bit of a temper, and in the first rejection, the other so‑called gentleman refused to take 'no' for an answer. The two gentlemen could be compared in relative stature as a worm and a hawk, and I… well… I was deathly afraid of what I would say to the hawk if he provoked me. I fear… well, as like as not, it would have been _very unpleasant_."

All three nodded, thinking _very unpleasant_ was the appropriate response to such a proposal.

Elizabeth continued, "My mother tried to force my acceptance of the first proposal from the worm. You can imagine her reaction to the hawk. I was but six weeks from my age of majority, where I would have relative freedom. It might be the relative freedom to be poor as a rat, but I just _could not_ allow the biggest choice in my life to be dictated by someone else. There is a saying, 'marry in haste, repent at leisure'. I prefer not to repent at all."

Mrs. Wythe leaned ahead and took her hands again, and said, "When is your birthday, Dear?"

"Next week."

Mr. Wythe said, "Let us remove the 'poor as a rat' option, Miss Bennet. So long as you are willing to enter the trades, I will be happy to assist you. I know any number of businessmen who would snatch you up in a heartbeat. You can live perfectly comfortably on your own, or better yet with us, until you find a husband somewhere between the two extremes… perhaps a rabbit or gazelle?"

Everyone laughed, and Elizabeth continued.

"Well, all of this time, I have been reconsidering the hawk. _Logistikon_ has for the past several weeks been very annoyingly persistent. It says that perhaps the gentleman is shy, or uncomfortable in crowds, or so in love with me he becomes tongue‑tied. _Thumos_ is less sanguine about those ideas but _does_ seem to be impressed that he is the handsomest man I have ever seen, while _Epithumetikon _asserts that a handsome gentleman may not be the worst thing in the world. I will never be comfortable with any decision until I learn more about him."

"Do you feel like sharing the gentleman's identity with us, Miss Bennet? You know it is not necessary."

Elizabeth looked around and decided to give them the last tiny little bit of her story she had been holding back.

"I have been reluctant to tell anyone, though I hope you do not believe it is due to lack of trust."

Mrs. Wythe said, "No, it is entirely sensible. A lady cannot be too careful with her reputation."

Elizabeth laughed darkly, and said, "I agree. My sister Mary prattles on about that frequently, though is not entirely wrong. She says that _'loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable; that one false step involves her in endless ruin; that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful'_. I hope you do not feel I mistrust you?"

"Of course not, Dear. You are guarding your heart and your life. Frankly, I would be disappointed in you if you had told us earlier. It would show less sense than we expect from you."

Elizabeth smiled at Mrs. Wythe, a woman she would introduce to her Aunt Gardiner at the absolute soonest opportunity, but then grew pensive, sighed, and began.

"You may well know the man, Mr. Wythe. It is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley."

Mr. Wythe gasped a bit, while Mrs. Wythe and Margaret just looked neutrally.

Mrs. Wythe said, "Well, that explains some of your odd conversations I overheard in Kympton."

"Yes, ma'am. I was trying to learn more about him - trying to feed _Logistikon_."

Mr. Wythe said, "I do not know the gentleman, Miss Bennet, but I do know _of him._ He runs more cattle than sheep and has a different broker for his wool. He is reputed to be a very reputable man, a fair master, affable to the poor, but somewhat aloof and standoffish. I could find out more if you like, but not right away."

Elizabeth said, "No, Sir, I would prefer to continue on my own. Sooner or later I will have to face him. I imagine the proposal has expired by now, but I do owe him a straight answer, and I owe it to myself to understand what I have either avoided or squandered."

"You seem to discount the possibility of _acceptance_, Lizzy?"

"Do you really believe that a man who proposed marriage to a woman who would not answer, and did not see for several months, would not have retracted the offer, Margie?"

"Hohoho"

Elizabeth looked at Mr. Wythe in consternation, while the gentleman laughed.

Mr. Wythe looked at his wife, and said, "You do not understand an engaged heart yet, Miss Bennet. My Dorothy accepted my first proposal, but had she denied me, it would only have delayed the inevitable. I suspect that if your lunkhead is anything akin to a man truly in love, that two months or two years would only inconvenience him. I believe the offer to still be open."

Elizabeth just stared, but the gentleman was not done yet.

"Think on this, Miss Elizabeth. Supposed I snap my fingers and you are Mrs. Darcy. What would happen when you went to Town to join the first circles?"

Elizabeth looked at him, and for the first time tried to picture such a thing. She thought furiously for several minutes, with her face falling with each moment.

"I never thought of that. I imagine it might be difficult. Every matchmaker and daughter in the first circles will assume I compromised him, or some such. Some will accept me, and some will disparage me, either to my face or behind my back."

Mr. Wythe leaned again, and carefully said, "Let us give _Logistikon _free reign for a moment. Let us presume that instead of a hawk, your Mr. Darcy is more akin to a tasty hare. All those matchmakers you mentioned must have been circling like vultures for years. Might such a man be not quite as acquainted with _Thumos _as a person with a more typical upbringing."

Elizabeth thought about it for some time, and finally nodded her head.

Very gently, the father said, "And, is it even remotely possible that such a man, under the completely unanticipated thrall of Thumos or Eros or whatever you want to call his particular malady, _might _feel it his _duty_ to acquaint you with the snake pit he proposes to drag you into."

Elizabeth gasped in surprise at the very idea but thought she should take it seriously. She thought furiously, while Mr. Wythe took out his pipe and began tamping down the tobacco, and the ladies called for more tea.

After some time, Mr. Wythe said, "Any thoughts, Miss Bennet."

"Just that you should call me Lizzy after all this."

"It will be our privilege."

"And… and… well… _Logistikon _has suggested the slim possibility that he was in earnest, but just tremendously bad at proposals. It is not something that is taught well, or that you can practice."

Everyone laughed heartily, and by mutual silent consent, they decided to move onto lighter topics for the remainder of the evening.

After more tea and biscuits, they started preparing for their beds.

Mr. Wythe said, "You are aware Lizzy, that Pemberley is just thirty miles to the East. We could stop there if you like."

Elizabeth gasped, looked startled, and said, "Yes, that will work. I will just speak with the housekeeper and say, _'Hello, I am Elizabeth Bennet. Your master proposed marriage to me, and I refused to answer him, but if you do not mind, I would stay awhile so I can interrogate you.'_ Yes, Sir, that will work!"

With a laugh, they all decided to go to bed. Lizzy knew there was one estate in Derbyshire where she would not be going, but after all this thought and discussion, she thought she might just let her twenty‑first birthday elapse, then return to Longbourn and see if he eventually showed up.

Yes, that would work!


	18. Haddon

_A/N: One last short introspection chapter, and then some NOT-introspection. Wade _

* * *

_≈ Lizzy, you will never understand your father until you can __imagine__ in your mind, __in every particular__, an intellectually brilliant but socially naïve young man being __thoroughly__ outclassed by an uneducated barrister's daughter; thus, ending up marrying great beauty but living with silliness. You will never understand your mother until you can __imagine__ in your mind, __in every particular__, a woman who got everything she ever thought she wanted in her young life; but ended up with a husband who ignores and belittles her, whilst not lifting a finger to actually help her. Further that example by imagining a woman who thinks she was supposed to bear a son, but got five daughters for her trouble, and none of which seem willing to get themselves out from under her roof, according to her understanding of how the world should work. ≈_

Uncle Gardiner's intervention with a headstrong and stubborn fifteen‑year‑old Elizabeth who had just had a screaming fit with her mother about 'coming out' to try to 'capture a husband', had soothed her feathers enough to make her think things through just a bit more. She still never quite _agreed_ with her mother on everything; but she at least eventually mostly _understood_ her.

The conversation had shown up in her mind almost immediately after she pulled her body, weary from a night of tossing and turning in her bed at the inn, into the coach for the trip to the Haddon estate, via the small village of Sudbury. She had been told that Sudbury was similar to Meryton or Kympton. Mrs. Wythe told her that they had some shopping there that would be quite enjoyable, as the proprietor carried some goods that were _not_ French, and definitely _not_ smuggled, but otherwise fascinating.

As the craggy hills and boulders of Derbyshire rolled by the side of the carriage, Elizabeth wondered if good sense was only taught to tradesmen, because she thought if she could get Uncle Gardiner's ghost to talk to the Wythes, they would have a wonderful conversation for hours or days.

Mr. Wythe's advice from the previous evening had been cut from the same stock as her uncles of five years previous.

_≈ Well, Lizzy – and I thank you for the privilege of calling you that – when an interaction was confusing to me, my father would tell me to imagine the entire thing in my mind, like a play, and then replace all the actors with myself or someone I know well, and then see if I perceive the scene any differently. ≈_

Elizabeth imagined her two favorite men in the world (or at least two of the three) having a discussion, and then decided she needed to really think about what she knew about Mr. Darcy. Not what she thought. Not what she felt. Not what she assumed. What she knew.

Elizabeth felt certain that when she eventually met the gentleman again, as seemed inevitable, she would be overwhelmed with emotions, sensations, disturbing thoughts, and the detritus of their shared history and misunderstandings. Even worse, after what seemed like a week of tossing and turning in her bed the night before, she _finally_ understood that there was a very real chance that she would also be distracted by what she had to eventually, reluctantly admit, was some _real attraction_ to the man. Once she let that particular cat out of the bag by thinking the thought, she could not seem to stuff it back in or forget it. That thought made her wonder if her _determined dislike_ of the gentleman might pass as _protesting too much._ Charlotte had at one point thought it a real possibility, and Elizabeth had learned, much to her chagrin in Hunsford, that Charlotte's opinions were not to be dismissed out of hand.

Elizabeth's sense of fairness (belatedly) insisted that she try to see where her and Mr. Darcy had gotten off to such very different trajectories. It had all started with the slight at the assembly, so that seemed a logical place to start.

She tried replaying it over and over in her mind, with herself cast as a rich and titled heiress, hunted by every dissolute rake and bankrupt estate owner in England, appearing at a neighborhood assembly. Rumors of her wealth would have been readily audible. _'10,000 a year and her husband will inherit half of Derbyshire'_, followed by twittering or sniggering_. _Could she in good conscience think she would not be justified in being cross and short‑tempered.

Then she imagined she did not want to go to the infernal assembly at all, but Charlotte Lucas dragged her there by trading on their friendship and civic duty. She would have gotten even more cross.

Then she imagined being introduced to a man with five sons, who immediately started blatantly sizing up her estate and fortune and throwing the sons willy‑nilly at her. She would absolutely be seriously cross.

Then, for the coup de grace, perhaps Charlotte might come find her in her corner being cross and _chastise_ her for failing to dance with one of the many five sons, and keep nagging her until she exploded and… and… and… well, to be truthful, if Charlotte did something that disagreeable at an assembly, Lizzy would almost certainly match her tit for tat.

Despite sitting in the corner in the Wythe carriage, talking to nobody but her various ghosts (who were at least being polite enough to appear one at a time that day), Elizabeth blushed bright red, stared down at the floor, and admitted that yes, perhaps, maybe, possibly, Mr. Darcy just might not have been the most ill‑mannered cretin that ever lived. At the very least, he could claim to be second‑worst, since Mr. Collins had done far worse within the first hour of his visit. In fact, nobody who was acquainted with Mr. Percy Long could think Mr. Darcy to even be in the dozen most ill‑mannered men in Meryton, let alone the world. No, in the end, though Elizabeth could not completely absolve Mr. Darcy of bad manners, neither could she convict him.

The next four hours passed in quiet contemplation, and occasional discussions with the Wythes, who were most helpful, followed by Mr. Wythe Senior's technique of asking as many questions as she could think of, and answering either as lightning‑fast as she could, or as slowly and thoughtfully as possible.

Did a man look repeatedly at a woman to find fault? It was hard to believe it to be true. She certainly did not spend any excess time looking at men she did not find admirable.

How did he act when Sir William thrust her on him yet again at Lucas Lodge? He _very politely_ asked her for her hand, thus saving both her and Sir William embarrassment. What did he do when she very churlishly denied the request? Bowed and accepted her verdict. And when she denied his somewhat awkward request for a reel at Netherfield? With polite acceptance. And when she finally quite churlishly accepted his third request at the ball? He was quiet and solemn, but certainly not ill‑mannered – until she started attacking him! At that point he was not only _not_ the most ill‑mannered person in the world; he was not even the most ill‑mannered person in that couple.

And the oddest of all in retrospect – how did he react to her teasing at Netherfield, or their discussions of literature, or Caroline Bingley's less than subtle attacks on everyone and everything? The gentleman was unflinchingly and unfailingly polite, but more importantly, he also gave her the respect of treating her like a rational being. In fact, the most diversion she had ever experienced in his presence was within a long‑winded and somewhat heated debate over literature. At the end, she did not know if she wanted to cut him into pieces and bury him in the front lawn; or lock him in her father's bookroom and feed him bread and water because Mr. Bennet would have loved his companionship.

At the end of the whole exercise, though she was reluctant in the extreme, her honor demanded that she acknowledge that almost everything about Mr. Darcy could be quite readily explained by a combination of shyness and social awkwardness (like her father), pride (like her mother and {cough, cough} herself), wariness (like Mr. Bingley would have if he had a lick of sense), and perhaps a bit of overconfidence (like Mr. Long). Nothing truly vile was required or even sensible.

Even his proposal, _as awful as it sounded,_ could (with a substantial stretch of her sense of charity), be interpreted as him telling her the depth of his regard to show his steadiness, by telling her what he had to overcome to make her an offer. Of course, that was roughly akin to showing the depth of his desire to be the best swimmer in the world by trying to swim to India and drowning, but it was at least understandable.

Finally, around ten o'clock, Elizabeth fell asleep, and for the first time, dreamed of a tall and handsome gentleman who _did __not_ raise her hackles and did _not_ make her want to beat him with a stick.

It was most disconcerting.


	19. Sudbury

1\. Sudbury

"**Papa, please stop the coach!**"

Elizabeth startled out of her slumber to find Margie leaning forward, looking quite vexed.

Mr. Wythe tapped the roof with his walking stick, and the carriage gradually stopped.

Before it was even completely stopped, Margie was out the door. She jumped to the ground without waiting for the footman, and immediately demanded the coachman lift her up top. The footman from the back of the coach arrived just in time to hand her up to the coachman, who lifted her the rest of the way up.

By the time Elizabeth had joined her on the ground (with just a touch more decorum), the footmen asked, "Do you care to ascend as well, Miss Bennet?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Julliard. I will await Miss Wythe here."

The man nodded, then looked back up at Margie, either being prepared to assist in any way he could, or more likely trying to work out exactly what in the dickens she could be about.

Elizabeth was wondering the same thing herself. Margaret had her nose in the air and was turning slowly around in circles.

"Part bloodhound, Our Margaret."

Elizabeth smiled at Mrs. Wythe who had just joined her, and Mr. Wythe who was just coming behind. Neither parent felt any compulsion to disrupt Margie, so Elizabeth waited to see what would happen.

When she finally saw Margaret, her heart nearly stopped. Margaret was looking as vexed and frightened as it was possible to be.

"Fire, Papa! It is a fire. A big one! I smell lumber, tar, hay, thatch, and maybe even burned flesh. I fear this is bad – very bad!"

Margaret had stopped spinning and was looking intently at her parents while the rest of the assemblage was looking at her.

"How far, Margaret?"

"Some few miles, Papa. I can only suppose it to be Sudbury. There is nothing else betwixt here and there."

Mr. Wythe sniffed a bit himself, picked up some grass and tossed it in the air to check the wind, and said, "I believe you to be correct, Margaret. We must proceed cautiously and see if we can be of assistance. It has quite a number of wooden structures – far more than is usual these days. A fire could be bad… very bad."

Jumping immediately into action, Mr. Wythe spoke for a few minutes with the coachman and footman, assisted the ladies back into the carriage, and said, "I will ride up top with Dodge. We want to get as close as we can, but not too close."

All nodded in agreement, and in another minute, they were traveling along slightly slower than they had. Twenty minutes later the smoke was quite noticeable to Elizabeth, and another quarter‑hour left the horses starting to fuss and fidget. At that point, Mr. Wythe and the footman climbed down, put one man on each horse's harness and walked them cautiously. By that point, there had been plumes of smoke billowing into the sky visible for miles for quite some time. Margaret's blood hound nose would not have even been necessary if the terrain had not blocked it.

Elizabeth would never forget the sight she saw when they walked around the last bend in the road that made Sudbury visible. She saw what could only be described as a wall of flames, with at least a half‑dozen or more houses fully engulfed. The fire seemed to be spreading even as she watched from the relative safety of the coach.

Looking carefully, Elizabeth saw just what she was looking for, and yelled out the window, "Mr. Wythe, on your left, Sir! What think you of that place?"

Mr. Wythe was with the rightmost horse so had not seen what she did, but when he looked, he said, "Well spotted, Lizzy! That will do."

The two men lead the horses off the road, across a lawn into the middle of a substantial apple orchard. They were still a half‑mile from the village, and downwind from the fire so there was far more smoke than she would have preferred, but there was a small hillock between the town and the back corner of the orchard, and the smoke was noticeably better than it had been once they navigated to that point. It would have to do.

Everyone was starting to feel the effects of the smoke. They had all been coughing from time, but this far it was mostly at the level of an annoyance.

As soon as the coach stopped, Mr. Wythe said, "Dodge, get those horses tied up in the best place you can find, and then stay here with the ladies. See if you can find a well or stream and get some water stored up, as it will be needed. Julliard, you are with me."

Mrs. Wythe said, "A moment, Mr. Julliard. Please pass down our trunks before you go. Send any victims you can to us here, and we can make bandages and such from the clothing."

A minute or two later, the tradesman and the footman took off at a run for the village, while Elizabeth wondered exactly what he meant by 'with the ladies', since in about a minute the orchard would be at least one lady short.

She stepped down from the coach, looked around and said, "Can you manage without me, Mrs. Wythe? I am under your direction but sitting here waiting for something to happen does not suit me very well. I grow weary of passivity."

The mother gave her a good look, then smiled and said, "I would expect no less, Lizzy. I shall not ask you to keep Margaret out of trouble, as that seems a lost cause, but I _will_ ask you to try to limit the trouble you drag her into."

Elizabeth jumped up, kissed her cheek, and said, "Margie, are you with me?"

Margaret was already a couple of steps away, when Mrs. Wythe shouted, "Wait!"

She opened a trunk, pulled out a few petticoats, and quickly cut a half‑dozen large strips about a handspan wide and a couple of feet long. She pulled a jug of water out of the carriage, poured it onto the strips, and then tied them around the girl's heads like a bandana.

Mrs. Wythe said, "Ware the smoke, Girls! I cannot overstate that case! People die more from smoke than fire, and it can sneak up on you. Give the other strips to those that need them and send everyone you can to me. Be careful of falling buildings. It will do you no good to escape the flames, only to be taken out by a timber."

Margaret caressed her mother's cheek, then the two ladies took off at a run. On the outskirts of the orchard, they saw two ladders and a hand‑barrow. The barrow even had some racks on the side that looked like they would just fit the ladders, so the ladies maneuvered the ladders onto the barrow, and with one girl on each side of the long handle, they took off at the closest to a run they could manage for the village.

* * *

About halfway between the orchard and the village, they circled around the hillock that was blocking the wind and over a small creek that fortunately had a footbridge, and they were hit by the smell of the fire like a bucket of rocks falling on their heads. Elizabeth remembered a frighteningly angry nine‑year-old Lydia cutting a lock of hair from Mary and throwing it in the fire. That exact same sickening smell was the first one to accost her through her mask, and she wondered how much worse it must be for the villagers who had no masks and were in the middle of it.

The next smell was something like what she had encountered one time in a neighboring estate where the master of the house wanted to cook his own meat (quite why, no one knew because he had no skill whatsoever), and ended up burning it to a crisp in a firepit set up just for that purpose in his front lawn. She understood that meant some animal, or person had perished in the fire; and most likely more than one.

The next thing she noticed was that the smoke made her eyes water and blink uncontrollably, while her breathing started to be just a bit ragged, despite the cloth across her mouth. She looked over at Margaret and saw the same kind of look of disgust, but she imagined that it must be twice as bad for the young lady if her sense of smell was particularly acute. They were both breathing heavily from pushing the heavy barrow, and both started coughing a bit more than they had been, but it was still manageable.

Sensing her thoughts, Margaret said, "Do not fret, Lizzy. My nose is very sensitive in clean air, but now I doubt I am any more troubled than you are."

Elizabeth said, "That is troubling enough, but I will believe you."

By the time they were finished with that small conversation, they had rolled the barrow into the high street in the center of the village, and pushed it past a burning stable where the sound and smell of burning horses became so overpowering both girls had to stop, bend over hands on knees coughing, and do their best not to retch. For Margaret, her best turned out to not be good enough, but she at least had sense enough to move the rag out of the way. Once she had voided the contents of her stomach in the gutter, she pulled the rag back down, and said, "Let us see what we can do."

The first order of business fortunately presented itself almost immediately. A young boy of around twelve years came stumbling out of a house carrying a baby of around a year. The boy was coughing ferociously, but looking proud of his accomplishments, as he should be. The baby was screaming, which Elizabeth took to be a good sign.

Lizzy asked in alarm, "Your parents, Son. Are they inside? Or anyone else?"

"No, mum. They be over at the Haddon estate. Me sister twer with us, but she went to the haberdashery a few hours past, and I've not seen her. I should have taken Sis and run, but I didna know what to do."

"You have done well, Young Man! Very well indeed! Do not fret."

Lizzy held her arms out for the baby, and the boy passed her over. The child was crying, coughing quite a bit, and unsurprisingly wet, but otherwise seemed like she would survive.

"What is your name, Lad?"

"Ewan, ma'am."

The boy followed that up with a ferocious bit of coughing but seemed otherwise unharmed.

"Well, Ewan. You have done well. Let me ask you. Are you strong enough to push that barrow with your sis and a few others out to the apple orchard back that way?"

"I can push her to London if'n I must."

Lizzy laughed, and said, "I doubt that will be necessary. Let us see who else we can find, shall we?"

She handed the young baby back to the boy for the moment and continued down the street. It took only another three or four minutes to find another few girls and boys between ten and fifteen, carrying younger siblings, friends, or just people they had found along the way, along with a group of older people. The younger were doing relatively well, with only a few of the youngers coughing and wheezing. The elders were doing much worse, but nobody seemed on the verge of collapse.

Lizzy set out to direct their actions, and fortunately, a number of years of directing a house full of stubborn and independent girls had at least taught her to give instructions with the lady‑like subtlety of an ill‑tempered sergeant. She handed out the kerchiefs made from their petticoats to the most affected, and saved the rest for greater need, and then set to it.

Margaret just sat in wonder as she watched her friend work. Lizzy was only five years older but seemed a dozen. With each new group of stragglers, Elizabeth rearranged the group with each person carrying or leading a younger that was as big as Elizabeth thought them capable of moving. The smallest were distributed to siblings if they were healthy, or to the barrow if absolutely necessary. Elizabeth instructed two of the older lads to remove the ladders, and continually moved and shifted the group to keep it as workable as possible.

Within ten minutes the group had accumulated some older siblings and a few mothers, and Elizabeth finally picked one of them and asked her to be in charge. The woman nodded distractedly because she had four of her own children to tend to, and Elizabeth then carefully instructed the group to go together pushing the barrow and two more that came from the dry goods store out to the apple orchard. Elizabeth hoped others would see them and follow, because while she did not know the area well, she doubted that they would find a better place. She _had_ asked several people, but nobody had any better ideas and Mrs. Wythe was waiting there.

As the group started out, she pulled two of the oldest boys aside, and bade them return with all possible speed, with the barrows, but to be certain to get a full report from Mrs. Wythe about conditions in the orchard. Both assured her of their compliance, and the group moved out.

* * *

"**AAAAAAYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEE!**"

The scream snapped Elizabeth out of watching her last group walking off to the orchard, and she spun around to try to see what was happening. The site before her eyes made her heart drop practically to the floor. The scream was coming from a woman a floor above the street, who was busily smashing out a window with a chair leg with one hand, while holding a screaming baby with the other. A quick look at the floor below showed smoke billowing out the windows, and fire behind them, so there was not a chance in the world that the woman could get out by herself, let alone with the baby.

Elizabeth thanked her lucky stars they had found the ladders, so she yelled, "Margie! The ladder!"

They both took off at a run, picked the ladder up and ran back towards the burning building. She saw quite a few men stumbling out of other buildings, but most of them were coughing entirely too much to be of any use. Some were moving so poorly that she was not even certain they would be of any use even to themselves. She paused beside one elderly looking gent and thrust the few remaining strips from their petticoats into his hand asking him to distribute them, and then continued along the way.

When they arrived in front of the burning building, she said, "Drop the bottom in that ditch, Margie."

With the base anchored, Elizabeth did what she had seen their own field hands in Hertfordshire do. She grabbed the top rung, and then started walking it hand‑over‑hand towards the bottom, pushing the top up with each rung. She found when she got to three‑quarters, the ladder got too heavy for her to lift herself, but just as she was running out of strength, Margie jumped in beside her.

By sheer luck, the top of the ladder landed just a few feet under the window. Elizabeth was not willing to hazard a guess about whether her unconscious mind was smarter than she thought it was, or Fortuna was just smiling upon her. In the end, it did not matter. Without a second thought, Elizabeth hiked her skirt up a bit and started climbing the ladder.

About halfway up, she was frightened nearly enough to give up and go back down, because something in the window in front of her exploded, and she got sprayed with glass splinters. A thick plume of smoke and heat smote her like an avenging god, and she started coughing ferociously. She saw blood dripping down from cuts she imagined must be on her forehead, but other than feeling like a half‑roasted chicken, she was serviceable. She reckoned that was probably the end of the excitement for the moment, so she resumed climbing as fast as she could move.

What seemed like an instant later, she was right below the window, and the woman was handing the baby down to her. She reached her hands up to get the baby, and noticed the backs of them were also bleeding, but not profusely enough to do any more than annoy her.

The woman croaked more than yelled, after coughing several times, and spitting a great gob out on the floor.

"Take the child, Girl! Take her down. She is your responsibility now, understand?"

"Of course! But you will let me help you?"

"**GOOO! NOOOOW!**"

Elizabeth followed the mother's instructions. The love of a child was powerful, and the woman seemed sensible enough to know what she was about, so Elizabeth followed her instructions to the letter, scrambling down the ladder as fast as she could without dropping the baby or slipping.

When she arrived at the bottom of the ladder, she handed the child to Margaret and turned around to go back up but was pulled up short by a large hand on her upper arm.

"Pardon my roughness, Miss, but I will see to my wife now. Take care of the babe."

Elizabeth turned around and jumped to the ground, while the man scaled the ladder in half the time it would have taken her. By the time he got to the top, his wife had cleared the rest of the glass from the window and was climbing backwards out of it. Elizabeth watched the man help his wife to the top step, and then they both scrambled down to the bottom as if they did it every day. For all she knew, they did – but she was mightily impressed anyway.

By the time the couple got to the bottom, the fire had moved to the upper floors, and the building was obviously lost.

Elizabeth was coughing furiously by that time, as was most everyone in the area. Her hands were bleeding, but she (incorrectly) thought she had seen worse when falling from the hayloft inf the barn. Her face was probably a mess, but a quick swipe with the sleeve of her dress left the sleeve a bloody mess, but it did not have an alarming amount of it. It seemed that her work for the day might not be done.

Elizabeth looked around, and they had attracted enough attention that there were a dozen women and children gathered around, and her two boys had returned with five more from the orchard. Some of the women were running into their houses and bringing out essentials to stack on the street, while others were trying to rattle the frightened youngsters into some semblance of order.

Elizabeth looked around and asked, "Do any of you ladies know aught about bandaging and nursing?"

"Aye! Most of us do, but Maggie here is the very best. Daughter of the apothecary."

The woman was pointing to a young girl of perhaps Elizabeth's age who was blushing profusely.

"Where might he be, Maggie?"

"He was attending a birth, so he will return when he returns. Babies have no notion of convenience for the rest of us."

Everyone laughed a bit, but it seemed they would not have reliable medical help any time soon.

Elizabeth said, "Very well. I will not presume to instruct you, but may I make a suggestion? This lady's mother is in the apple orchard just around the hillock there. She has a couple of trunks of material to make bandages, but not much else. She is tending to everyone there as best she can, but she could certainly use some help. Would you go there, and either be treated or help?"

The oldest woman in the group said, "Of course, we will. Thank you for pointing it out."

Elizabeth asked, "As you probably know, it is around a hillock. The smoke was not so strong as it is here when we left, but I do not know what it is like now. At any rate, Mrs. Wythe will work with you to work out what to do."

"A sound suggestion, and we thank you. **Less GO!**"

The last was said with a tone of authority anyone still alive would follow, and her ragtag group started organizing themselves to depart.

Elizabeth halted the young lady, and asked, "Maggie, are your father's concoctions still available?"

Maggie looked downtrodden, and just pointed to one of the burning buildings, saying, "No, ma'am. That is our place."

Elizabeth looked at Margaret and then at Maggie, and Margaret took the girl's arm and started leading her away as the tears fell.

Elizabeth turned to two of the boys who had reliably made the trip twice before, and said, "They will need a lot of water at the orchard. Is there a stream?"

"Yes, ma'am. Not far from the edge."

"Excellent. Thank you. Can you find a few buckets to take back without putting yourself in danger."

The boy grinned and was off running.

With no further discussion, the women managed to organize the group, and within another minute, they were all gone.

* * *

Once the group left towards the orchard, Elizabeth put them from her mind. Mrs. Wythe was there, and the women she had just sent were almost certainly more capable than she was, so they obviously would not need her help. She saw most of the men working with buckets of water and sand, trying their best to save what remained of the village. One of the men who had watched the exchange looked at the women and children leaving the village, then looked directly at Elizabeth and gave her a bit of a salute.

She gave him a curtsy in response, and he smiled somewhat grimly, but waved her over.

"I thank you for your quick thinking, Miss. You have saved some lives and it will not soon be forgotten. We need to try to save as much of the village as we can. I fear it has more wood construction than is the fashion these days, for obvious reasons."

"How may I help, Sir?"

"I am Mr. Sutton. I owned the stables you see burning there. We do not have much time. The fire is almost certain to burn everything from here to the post office. It is stone, as are the buildings on the other side, so we hope it will stop there, if we are prepared to fight it."

Elizabeth, thinking he was not just looking for a dog to agree with his every utterance, looked at the fire, and the post office, and had to hope the man knew what he was speaking about."

"I have only seen two largish fires before, Sir, but nothing on anything close to this scale, so I cannot pretend to know. I believe you may be correct. How can we help?"

"I hate to ask you, but if you will simply walk down the street and see if there is anybody who needs your assistance, it might save me from sending one of the men to do so. Please do not put yourself in any danger. Come running for one of us if you need help."

Elizabeth nodded in reply, said, "We will not let you down, Sir!"

Gathering Margaret, Elizabeth did as the gentleman suggested, walking down the street and looking for any signs of trouble. The women had only made fifty yards at best, when she heard somebody yelling for help from inside one of the buildings. Looking around, she saw the man who were obviously prepared to fight the fire, so she ran towards the building to see what she could see.

Entering the smoking building, she saw a young boy alternately yelling for help, and coughing. Next to him was another young boy, perhaps ten years old, who was passed out. There was no way to know if he was alive or dead, so Elizabeth asked the other boy, "Are your parents, or someone else upstairs or otherwise announce?"

"No, ma'am. They'se as off seeing to the cattle."

Elizabeth nodded, and picked up one of the unconscious boy's arms. Margaret grabbed the other and together they dragged the boy out the door. The arrived just in time for one of the older boys from the orchard to arrive. They checked as best they could to make sure the unconscious boy was still breathing, and then Elizabeth charged them with taking the boy in a barrow at top speed to the orchard. The boys reported that Mrs. Wythe and the village wives had things well in hand, except they needed supplies.

Some of the boys went to work with the men to try to make sure the fire stopped at the post office, and some of the younger ones directed Margaret and Elizabeth to houses that might have the material they would need, and a half‑hour later they were off with the barrows to help the women in the orchard.

Another goodwife came by carrying some bedding and blankets, and Elizabeth redirected some of the younger children who had wandered into town that really should not have, to help her with it out to the orchard.

By the time Elizabeth and Margaret and made a complete run of the village two or three times, the men had managed to get the fire contained. As they had hoped, the stone building of the post office had stopped the fire from spreading farther, and all that remained was to watch what little remained of the North end of the village burn the rest of the way to the ground, clean up the mess, and start rebuilding their lives.

* * *

Elizabeth and Margaret, decided to go back to the orchard to see if they could help, since there did not appear to be anything else that they could do in the village, and they hoped the air was still better there.

On the way to the orchard, Elizabeth looked up and sighed in resignation. She could see black clouds scuddling across the sky. She had been caught in enough storms in Hertfordshire to know what they portended, so she just pointed at the sky for Margaret to look.

Both ladies were coughing quite ferociously, and a quick glance told Elizabeth they were both covered in soot from head to toe. She ascertained that they were to soon be covered with black mud from head to toe, which was going to be decidedly worse, but there was not a lot they could do about it.

Mr. Wythe and Mr. Sutton climbed slowly down from the roof of the post office and joined the young ladies.

"Well done, Lizzy. I believe you handled that all beautifully. No doubt you and my Margaret saved some lives today."

"I do not know about that, Mr. Wythe… but I do believe we helped. Have you heard from the orchard?"

"Yes, there are some four-dozen people there, some badly injured, and a few… well, beyond injury. Very few were caught directly in the fires, so there are not that many serious burns among the survivors, but there are a few and they are bad enough. Mostly, people are having a terrible time with smoke. There were those you two sorted out, and quite a number from other places in the village. I fear the smoke here will be too thick for them to sort themselves out for some days, even if they had houses. Even the ones that did not burn will be barely habitable for a time."

Mr. Sutton added, "In past times, I would have welcomed all in my stables, but now… well, you see. Mr. Haddon is the village patron, but his estate is six hours in a good coach, and longer with a farm cart. There is no way they could get warm and dry before everyone is soaked to the bone."

Mr. Wythe sighed, and said, "You know what I am thinking, but is the gentleman at home?"

"I happen to know he is not. I do not know the man at all well, but his reputation is quite good. His sister is there with her companion, but the housekeeper is a good woman and I do not think she would turn you away."

Mr. Wythe looked at Lizzy, and said, "What say you, Lizzy. Pemberley is about six miles south, a mere hour or two even for the slowest cart. I know _you_ could _walk _it in two hours. Would Mr. Darcy take in some refugees?"

Elizabeth was all astonishment at both the suggestion and the implication that she might be able to answer it; but she had been asked a serious question, and they deserved a serious answer. It seemed like the entire world was conspiring to set her life on its head, so she thought she might as well meet her fate head‑on.

"Mr. Wythe, Mr. Sutton - I happen to know Mr. Darcy quite well, and I am certain he would not mind housing some people for a fortnight or two until they can get it sorted out. He would not even question the action and would probably be offended that we even had the discussion, so let us keep it to ourselves. We must gather the people who need to go and be off. There is much to do, and not very much time to do it in. You can see the clouds, I presume. Do you have sufficient horseflesh and equipage to get everyone safely to Pemberley?"

"That's the spirit, Lizzy. We have been discussing it, and I believe it can be done. I can get six adults and some babes inside our carriage. The rest will be farm carts or Mr. Sutton's carriage which survived because it was away from the stables. The most injured will need to be laid out on the farm carts, but we can fill them with bedding on the bottom of the wagon, and then an actual bed on top. It will do."

Elizabeth said, "Do you think you gentlemen can get everyone that needs to go loaded up and ready?"

Both men laughed, and said, "We are men - we can do anything."

Elizabeth laughed along with them and said, "Perhaps Margaret and I might ride ahead to prepare the way, so the people have somewhere to set up. If the village can spare one horse, we could ride double. You will probably need the rest for the wagons and farm carts.

"Well, Lizzy. Perhaps your questions will be answered in the coming weeks."

Elizabeth sighed, and said, "Perhaps. We shall see."

With that, Mr. Sutton invited the pair to take his horse which was grazing contentedly outside the village. Margaret had in the past assured Elizabeth that she knew all there was to know about horses, so Lizzy just deferred to her judgment. The horse had a man's saddle. Lizzy looked at it dubiously, and Margaret just laughed and jumped on the horse astride and reached her hand down for Lizzy.

It seemed that she was off to Pemberley.

* * *

_A/N: The Wall of Flames is my own recollection of my family's sawmill burning when I was 9 years old - not a sight I'd recommend. I've been close to quite a few fires personally, but not trying to make this into a horror‑fest. I was shooting for bad, but not too terrible. You judge. Wade_


	20. Bookroom

_A/N: Hey gang. Believe it or not, today marks two years since I saved the first version of this file, with four chapters much as they still stand. I started it on the same trip where I wrote __The Wedding Afternoon__. As you can see, it's been in the hopper for a while. Back then, I had the full concept in my mind right until the end, including the first words for ODC after the whole ordeal, but what you're getting now is very different, though the theme is in essentials the same._

_I was pretty blasé about the timeline, but I finally went back and made one so the dates would work out. I did not (and never promise to) tell the story strictly in sequence, but it's mostly sequential if you don't nitpick too much. _

_The proposal happened on April 9, and Sudbury happened about 5 weeks later, on May 14. Darcy went to Longbourn on April 23, so I'm going backwards a bit here. This chapter is a little over 2 weeks since the proposal, but you can deal with it. Don't sweat it. Just trust me it will all work out._

_We're sort of in the home stretch. I'm expecting maybe 30ish chapters, done before the New Year. _

_Wade_

* * *

_≈ The acorn does not fall very far from the tree Fitzwilliam, but you should also keep in mind that a tree can have a pleasant apple orchard on one side and a steep ravine or river on the other; topsoil on one side and rock on the other. You can usually see the echoes of both parents in the child, no matter how wildly divergent siblings may appear to be, but as with everything, try not to read too much into it. A lot depends on which ground the acorn falls on, and how it is nourished after being planted. ≈_

Darcy looked around Mr. Bennet's bookroom, and strongly suspected he was staring at the education that had enchanted him with a Meryton Miss. He was lost in reflections about a particularly intense 'discussion' he had with Miss Elizabeth at Netherfield about literature. During the more heated part of the discussion, (which Bingley asserted was more like an argument than a debate), Darcy had for the first time really begun to appreciate the finer qualities of his antagonist. For the first time, he admitted that she was a worthier opponent than anyone else he knew, man or woman. He would never admit it to anybody else, but she had bested him in the end.

For a certain, he had long abandoned his initial hare‑brained idea that she was not handsome enough to tempt him. Oooohhhh Nooooo… by the time she showed up at Netherfield with all the features that Miss Bingley disdained but he found enchanting, her handsomeness was not in question at all. At that point, he quite agreed with Bingley, and for a moment indulged in remembering the smiling and happy man he had been before Darcy convinced him to abandon Jane Bennet.

_≈ Your picture may be very exact, Louisa, but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice. ≈_

No, her handsomeness was not in question. After a few days of watching her toy with Caroline Bingley, (and to be honest, probably with himself too), her wit, her politeness, her social graces were also not in question.

That day in the drawing room though, when he had the temerity to contradict a deeply held opinion about literature, the knives had come out. At the end of it, he did not know if Miss Bennet wanted to kill him or keep him for further study, but she was certainly a force to be reckoned with. That was the day when he began to suspect he might be in well over his head.

* * *

"Pick your poison, Mr. Darcy. Port? Sherry? Brandy?"

Darcy startled himself from his introspection, looked at Miss Elizabeth's father, and could see what he suspected was a twinkle in his eye that looked all too familiar. Here, obviously was the tree.

"Brandy, if you please, Sir. It has been…"

Mr. Bennet laughed, and said, "Mr. Darcy, you appeared without notice at my front door after five months, with two ladies and a maid in tow, one of whom is my usually quite pliable daughter but orders you about like a manservant, and one of whom is a maid who treats you like a big brother. Yes, Sir – I would say that Brandy is absolutely called for."

Darcy nodded in agreement, and the gentlemen deferred whatever battle they were to engage in long enough to both be polite and gird their loins.

For a few minutes, Darcy looked at the titles that he had read at one time or another and was somewhat dismayed that it turned out to be a small part of the collection while he sipped his brandy. Whatever faults Mr. Bennet might have, lack of scholarship was not among them.

Finally, he said, "I imagine, Sir, that you would like an answer to your question."

Bennet sipped his brandy and looked at the young man over his glass trying to get a handle on him. Based on their interactions so far, he had to assume that the man was a twin, and the man from the previous autumn was the evil one. This man had somehow lost the rough edge that had grated so thoroughly against the Meryton populace in general, and Elizabeth in particular.

"Eventually, I would. Before we get into specifics though, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course. I am at your disposal, Sir."

"Am I going to be unhappy when you are done speaking?"

"Almost certainly, Sir."

"How unhappy?"

"Very."

"Am I going to be unhappy six months or a year from now?"

"I should hope not, Sir… and I shall do everything in my power to prevent that."

"Is there any action that you or I should take immediately that could mitigate any of this?"

"None, Sir. If I knew what to do, I would be doing it."

"Do you believe my Lizzy to be in any immediate danger?"

"No, Sir. What little I have heard suggests quite the opposite."

Mr. Bennet nodded, sipped a bit more brandy, and said, "I am a procrastinator of the worst order, Mr. Darcy, and you look a bit nervous. Shall we continue our discussion over the chessboard?"

"It will be my pleasure, Mr. Bennet."

"Unless you are very good, Mr. Darcy, that statement may prove to be in error."

* * *

Two hours later, Darcy had lost most definitively on the chessboard, but the entire story had been told from the ignominious beginning to the mortifying proposal, Elizabeth's subsequent flight, and his entire interaction with the horsewomen. He thought he might be evenly matched with Mr. Bennet on a normal day, and looked forward to a rematch.

Bennet picked up a tobacco pouch laying near the chessboard, tamped his pipe, got a brand from the fire and lit it, while thinking furiously.

"That is quite a story, Mr. Darcy. Funny, I would not have pegged Jane to be the one to bring you to heel."

"She did not do it alone, Sir, but she very well could have. There is more strength in her than meets the eye."

Bennet went over to his desk and retrieved a letter.

"What do you think of this, Mr. Darcy? It seems Lizzy can lie with the best of them, without actually being unfactual."

Darcy examined the letter, and said, "Yes, Sir. A red herring if I ever saw one. The way she specified her location she could be anywhere from Bedfordshire to Scotland. Her hosts could be anything from a shop owner to a shipping line owner."

Bennet laughed, and said, "And look at the atrocious writing on the direction… and the fact that she obviously had this 'Margaret' write it just to put me off the scent."

Darcy continued, "My theory, which my cousins agree with is that she is running out the calendar. With _two_ awful proposals in less than four months, she wants to get on the other side of her age of majority. I admire her very much for her courage, and only repine that I made it necessary. It was very clever."

"So, is she almost as clever as you are, Sir?"

"Reverse the question and you will be on the right track, Sir."

Bennet chuckled, and said, "She will certainly keep you on your toes, Son."

"Yes, **IF** I can ever find her, and **IF** she will give me another chance. I have not earned it, but I shall ask it all the same."

He looked at his lap in shame, and added, "I can do better. Much better!"

Bennet relit his pipe, thought a few more minutes, and said, "Tell me, Mr. Darcy. All that falderol about her acceptance in your society… is it a valid concern? I will not see my Lizzy put upon by the jackals in London."

Darcy gave a grim chuckle, and said, "That is the stupidest part of the whole thing, Mr. Bennet. If I take her into society for a month, society will happily toss me aside and keep her."

Bennet chuckled, and said, "Well said, Sir. She needs a man like you. And you need a woman like her."

"Not a woman like her, Sir. I need HER!"

Bennet chuckled, "Well said, Sir. Well said. I tell you what. I will make you a bargain."

Darcy was not so certain he wanted to enter a bargain with unknown conditions, but if he was proposing this gentleman as a father‑in‑law for the rest of his life, he thought it would behoove him to trust the man.

"Yes, Sir."

"Lizzy will make her own decision, in her own time. She told you that I stood by her when my idiot cousin proposed?"

"She did not, but Ja… er, Miss Bennet told me."

Bennet chuckled at the near miss, and said, "What Jane does not know is that I really had no choice in the matter. Had I not stopped the match, she would have walked out that side door right over there, and I would not have seen hide nor hair of her until her age of majority. Nobody makes her do anything she does not want to do. Her mother thinks she could wear her down, but she would have better luck stopping the tide. Stubborn girl, my Lizzy. "

Darcy laughed, and said, "Is that a benefit or drawback, Mr. Bennet."

"Like most things in life, it is, neither or both. It all depends on the context."

Darcy nodded, and Mr. Bennet continued.

"I will tell you this, Son. If you find her, try to remember you need balance. Apologize for whatever offenses you have committed, but do not grovel. She despises weakness more than bad manners. Offer rational explanations about your thinking, before and after the proposal. Paint a picture of what your marriage would be like. Show here that you respect had and you need her. Let her ask as many questions as she wants and give her honest answers. Do not delude yourself that you can fool her."

"That is exceptional advice, Sir. I shall follow it to the best of my abilities."

Bennet nodded, and said, "Like as not, the way these things work out, you will meet her somewhere away from here. My position is that my daughter's fate, any of my daughters once they are of marriageable age, should be by their own choice. If Lizzy accepts you, then you have both my permission and my blessing; though neither are strictly required."

"I thank you, Sir."

Bennet chuckled, "Enough of that. May I presume that Jane brought you here to repair your reputation?"

"You guessed that?"

"I state the obvious, Mr. Darcy."

"Yes, Sir. Also, there is another matter of some urgency I need to address. There is a man in town who likes to prey on young ladies and run up debts he cannot pay. To my shame, I knew he was here before I left in November and did nothing. It is time I dealt with him once and for all."

"Why did you do nothing?"

"He holds… certain leverage, Sir."

"And you still propose to proceed?"

"Yes, Sir. My courtship of Miss Elizabeth, should it ever be known, would paint quite a target on your other daughters. I will of course protect all of them as my sisters should Elizabeth accept my suit, but it would be best to have the obstacle removed in the first place."

"How do you propose to do that?"

Darcy blew out a deep breath, and said, "I have given Mr. Wickham chance after chance after chance, and now I find that _others_ always pay for my negligence. I will give him a choice. He is for the Navy and never to return to England on pain of death, or I have enough vowels to send him to debtor's prison for the rest of his short‑miserable life. As for the leverage, I will inform him that one wrong word will cause me to tell my cousin where he is, which would almost certainly end up in his death. I believe he will see the benefits of service to King and Crown."

Bennets eyebrows were practically to his hairline, and he said, "Well, if that needs doing, you had best get to it. By now, he knows you are here. Shall we ride out and get the deed done?"

"You will help?"

"Of course!"

"I shall also need you to get an _accurate _accounting of any debts he has run up with local merchants. I will pay them, but I would rather not be cheated, and the temptation will be great."

Bennet nodded, and said, "Let us get to it, then."

Both men got up and headed for the door. As they were putting on their outerwear, Bennet casually mentioned, "Oh, by the way. There is an assembly in about a fortnight. We should buy tickets for your party while we are at it."


	21. Pemberley

_A/N: Kind of a long delay on this chapter. You can see we're closing in on the end, but not there for a while yet. This chapter frankly took a lot of thought because I had several different versions I was trying to decide between. Hope you like this one.  
Wade _

* * *

True to form, the rain started around twenty minutes after Elizabeth and Margaret left Sudbury, and so they were thoroughly soaked and covered in black grime by the time they came to a stop in front of Pemberley. Elizabeth dearly hoped the villagers could find something to cover themselves for the journey, and that her assumption that they would be welcome turned out to be valid.

Elizabeth thought that in a better mood she might well have thought Pemberley the most beautiful estate in the world, but at that moment, 'most beautiful' was a literal translation for 'driest'. She would have been quite content with the shed her father kept his pigs in, so long as it was occupied by enough animals to keep it warm. This was _not_ how she had expected to first see Pemberley, although to be honest, for the longest time she had never expected to see it at all.

Two footmen came racing down to help them down from the horse, both carrying umbrellas and dressed in quite fashionable livery. Much to their credit, neither man seemed to think it all that unusual for young ladies to arrive riding both astride and double, covered in mud, and neither man scrupled to assist the ladies, despite the cost to their attire.

The first footman, a rather handsome man of around Elizabeth's age said, "Allow us to assist you, Miss. Our butler is unfortunately indisposed, as is the under‑butler and the housekeeper, but If you will step inside, I am certain the mistress will want to speak with you. Robert will take the horse around to the stables."

Elizabeth liked the young man immediately, and said, "Thank you, that is very kind. Is the master at home?"

"No, ma'am. He is not expected for some days."

"Who has responsibility for the house? Excuse me, that is an impertinent question… it is just that we must discuss a matter with whomever is in charge, and we must do it immediately."

"Come inside, please, Miss. We can fetch you a bath and some clean clothes. I fear if we let you catch your death, Mrs. Reynolds will have our hides, eventually."

"Mrs. Reynolds?"

"She is the housekeeper, ma'am."

Fortunately, they had been walking as they talked, so Elizabeth stepped into the most beautiful entryway she had ever seen. Not only was it not wet, and not on fire, and not filled with either smoke or pigs – but it was beautiful in an elegant and yet understated way that she found very much to her liking. It was in some ways like Matlock, but even more so. If she had to describe it in one word, it would be 'subtle'. The furnishings were obviously well crafted and probably expensive, but much like Matlock, each piece seemed to be in exactly the right place to serve a purpose. Nothing was overly ostentatious or ornamented. Yes, she found it very much to her taste."

Margaret looked around in wonder, and said, "Lizzy, this entry is amazing."

"Yes, Margie. It is. It is… It is… well, to be honest, it is as I expected."

Margaret just smiled in a very good approximation of Jane in an ebullient mood.

* * *

As the ladies were looking Elizabeth noticed a young woman of around Lydia or Kitty's age running down the stairs, followed by an older lady of about Mrs. Bennet's age, showing much more decorum. Elizabeth presumed this must be the lady of the house.

_Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth; and, though little more than sixteen, her figure was formed, and her appearance womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother; but there was sense and good humour in her face, and her manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle. _

The young lady ran up to her and said, "Oh, my goodness! Welcome to Pemberley, ladies. This is terrible. You are wet as drowned rats. Please, allow me to arrange baths, and some clean clothing, and then you can tell me what brings you."

The young lady stopped speaking, then laughed an embarrassed sound, and added, "Oh… I am a complete flibbertigibbet. I have not even done introductions, but I hope you will attribute it to concern for your welfare, and not bad manners. You see, I am usually quite shy, and nobody can get a word out edgewise, but when I get excited, I rattle on like a madwoman."

Elizabeth could not help it. She laughed uproariously about the entire episode. Margaret somewhat timidly joined her, until Miss Darcy started tittering, and all had a good laugh before they were done. At that point, she spared a small thought that this could _not possibly_ be the girl Mr. Wickham described, so ergo, _everything_ that man had said must be disqualified. She did _not_ wish to think that at least half of her animosity for the master of this house was probably based on that scoundrel's words. No, she did _not_ think that three or four times over while the three ladies did their best to act like Lydia and Kitty Bennet.

Another footman approached with two blankets and some towels. Elizabeth and Margaret looked at the quality of the materials, and the amount of grime on their sleeves in suspicion.

Miss Darcy said, "Stop that fidgeting, and wrap yourselves in those blankets. You have obviously been in a fire of some sort, and I will not have you dripping all over my clean floor."

Elizabeth laughed, and Miss Darcy laughed as well, before shyly looking at the floor and mumbling, "Please. I know I seem a bit manic at the moment, but I assure you, I am usually more reserved and polite. It is just that we are in a spot of difficulty."

"Not at all, Miss Darcy. You are doing splendidly."

Miss Darcy gave her a big smile, and said, "I am afraid you find me in charge of the manor without a very clear idea of what to do. Perhaps introductions are in order. I am, as you probably surmised, Miss Georgiana Darcy. This is my companion, Mrs. Annesley. My brother, Fitzwilliam Darcy owns the estate. How may I be of service?"

Elizabeth was curious about the lack of a housekeeper or butler, but not overly so. It was no business of hers how Pemberley was run. They gratefully took the towel from the footman and made a quick brush over her hair and the outside of her clothing, and then wrapped herself in the blanket, as Margaret did the same thing. She thanked the footman and asked for his name.

The man, who was about twenty-five and, seemingly quite friendly, gave his name, and subtly suggested to Miss Darcy that a fire might be in order. That lady took the suggestion quite to heart and bustled the pair off to a parlor on the ground floor, where the first footman who had brought them inside was already stoking the fire.

Both Elizabeth and Margaret stood near the fire to warm their hands, then turned their backs and Elizabeth started her disclosure.

"Miss Darcy, I fear my manners are lacking, but you seem quite understanding. Allow me to introduce myself and my companion. This is Miss Margaret Wythe of London. Margaret's father handles all the wool sales for Lord and Lady Matlock among others, but apparently not your brother."

"Miss Wythe, it is a pleasure to meet you. I do hope your parents are about and I might be introduced to them."

"Likewise, Miss Darcy."

Elizabeth continued, "I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire."

Quite to her surprise, Miss Darcy gasped, and practically shouted, "**YOU are Elizabeth Bennet!**"

Feeling somewhat alarmed about what part of her reputation preceded her, Elizabeth said, "Yes, last I checked. I know your brother somewhat, Miss Darcy. He stayed at Netherfield with his friend Mr. Bingley last Autumn, just three miles from my father's estate; and I encountered him again six weeks ago at Rosings, where I was visiting a friend recently married to the parson for Hunsford Parish."

Somewhat timidly, she lowered her voice, and whispered only for Miss Darcy's ears, "What have you heard, Miss Darcy? Am I welcome here? I would not cause you distress for anything in the world."

Georgiana Darcy looked at her quite confusedly, and said, "My pardon, Miss Bennet. That exclamation must have sounded unhinged. I only know that my brother wrote about you quite some number of times last Autumn, and again when he encountered you in Kent, and I just received a note that recommended you yesterday. I know he holds you in the _highest_ esteem, but nothing more. I only reacted that way because he rarely says anything at all about young ladies he meets, so he must have been particularly impressed with you."

Elizabeth let out a huge sigh of relief, wondering why she thought it a possibility that Mr. Darcy might have confided in his sister. She doubted he had consulted with a single‑solitary‑soul and wondered if the Wythes were the only people in the world who knew of his proposal.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, and said, "Miss Darcy, we have just now traveled from Sudbury. I fear that, as you surmised, there was a fire, and we were assisting the villagers. I am afraid at least a third, and possibly half of Sudbury has been burned."

Miss Darcy gasped, and said, "Oh, no! My brother has worried about that for years. Most villages have been using stone for most buildings for some time, but Sudbury still had a lot of the old wood structures. We have been afraid this would happen, but…"

Elizabeth looked at her and said, "I imagine there is a story there, but I do not need it now. The main point is that the church stands but its roof is heavily damaged, and it is not habitable in this weather. The stables are entirely gone, and the Inn is quite damaged. Many of the villagers are without shelter."

Miss Darcy gasped in alarm, and said, "What is to be done?"

Elizabeth stared at the floor for a moment, then gathered her courage and said, "I hope you can someday forgive me, Miss Darcy, but I… well, I said that I knew your brother better than I actually do, and furthermore said they would be welcome at Pemberley. I am hoping you can give them a dry place to sleep for a few days to give themselves a chance to set the village to rights."

Georgiana said, "Of course, Miss Bennet. You are absolutely correct about my brother. They will be welcome here. Although…"

Elizabeth looked alarmed when the young lady stopped, and prompted her, "… Although… what, Miss Darcy?"

Miss Darcy looked alarmed, and said, "Only, I am not certain it is wise. You see… well… I am so confused."

Elizabeth saw what looked like the young lady's courage crumbling right in front of her eyes and could not help but be sympathetic.

Gently, she asked, "Start at the beginning, Miss Darcy. Perhaps I may be of assistance, and if not, Mr. and Mrs. Wythe should be here within the hour."

Georgiana said, "I am not even certain we should have allowed you inside, Miss Bennet. You see, our housekeeper, butler, under‑butler and a few servants have been taken with Measles. Do you know of Measles, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, I nearly died from it in the outbreak of '08 when I was sixteen. I was confined to my bed for some time, so I made my father procure all the medical books he could get his hands on. I am quite well versed in the disease."

Georgiana said, "Well, I am glad, for I have no idea what to do. Mrs. Reynolds instructed us to quarantine all of them on the second floor in the guest wing. It is well isolated from the rest of the house, and she thought that it was not necessary to quarantine the whole house. Now… well, what should I do, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth felt all the panic of having been in Pemberley for all of a quarter hour and already being expected to advise on household matters, but since she was mostly fixing problems that she had created herself, she knew that her courage would have to rise to the challenge. She was at least four or five years older than Miss Darcy, and probably slightly more worldly, so a little advice would not be amiss.

Her hesitation seemed to be too much for Miss Darcy, who asked, "Miss Bennet, might I speak to you privately?"

Elizabeth did not like the sound of that question all that much but agreed, and she walked a dozen paces across the room dragging her blanket behind her.

"Miss Bennet, I am afraid I did not tell you _everything_ my brother wrote about you."

Elizabeth gasped in consternation, wondering just how bad things were.

Gritting her teeth, she said, "Go on, Miss Darcy."

Georgiana Darcy said, "He wrote just a fortnight ago, _privately_ and asked me to keep his confidence."

With a sinking feeling, Elizabeth said, "What did he say?"

Georgiana said, "Please do not look so frightened, Miss Bennet. It was certainly nothing bad or shocking. He said that he had acted badly to you in a certain matter and hoped to set things right when he met you again. He was not explicit, and I would not intrude on your business by asking, but he would very much like to talk to you."

Elizabeth nodded, and said, "I have things to say to him as well, but that is tomorrow's problem."

Looking very relieved, Georgiana said, "Oh yes, let us discuss today's problem. I hope you do not in any way feel that you have overstepped your bounds or done anything improper. My brother, and my father before him, and my grandfather before him, taught us from the cradle that care of everyone within our sphere of influence was a duty of any good landowner. You only did what he would have done were he here."

Elizabeth breathed a large sigh of relief, and said, "Your brother and I do have our differences, Miss Darcy, but we should be able to resolve them amicably if I am still in the county when he returns. I am traveling with the Wythes and must abide their movements."

"They are welcome at Pemberley as long as they wish to stay, and I strongly suspect my brother would like to meet them anyway. We sent an express for him two days ago when we found the outbreak of Measles, so he should be back within the week. I also sent one to Matlock and hope to have my aunt or uncle here within a day or two."

Elizabeth nodded, wondering if she would have the courage to face Mr. Darcy when the time arrived.

"There is one more thing he said, Miss Elizabeth."

"Yes."

"He said that I could learn much from you, and also that I should trust you implicitly."

Elizabeth gasped, and said, "How could he possibly know that I would arrive in such a state."

"I suspect he was just being diligent. I do trust you though. Will you help me?"

Elizabeth nodded, and said, "Of course, what can I do?"

Georgiana very forwardly grabbed Elizabeth's hand and pulled her out of the room, and into the formal dining room where quite a large number of servants, some of whom seemed to work outside the house was gathered and addressed them.

"This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and her good friend Miss Margaret Wythe. Miss Bennet is well known to my brother and has his implicit trust. She has agreed to help us in this difficult time, and so I would ask you to treat her suggestions as orders."

Elizabeth gasped and wanted to shout at the upstart young lady like she would Lydia when she was being very naughty, but Miss Darcy looked like she was not particularly up to having her very first bit of management of a household, when she was not even out yet, be the housing of forty or fifty people from a village. Elizabeth on the other hand had been active in her community for some time and had participated in management of fairs and the like for years. She felt that she had a fairly good idea of what to do.

Elizabeth sighed, but then stood up straight. There was nothing to be gained by cowering in the corner. It had done her no good thus far, and it was time for _someone_ to act like a mistress. It was only for a few days. How bad could it be?


	22. Quarantine

_≈ An excellent question, Lizzy! In answer, I manage to spend most of my time in my bookroom with no steward without the estate falling into ruin because I know who to trust and how far to trust them. I will admit I could have done much better. I should really have left you girls with bigger dowries, and better educations but that is a different matter. Think on this! Your mother spends an hour or two with hill to get one of her dinners. I can get a dinner just as good in five minutes by simply telling Mrs. Hill what I want to eat and getting out of her way. Subordinates thrive on trust and responsibility in just the right amounts. Too much and you can be overwhelmed or cheated. Too little and they will not strive for you. Learn that balancing act and you shall know how to act. ≈_

Elizabeth's father was such a confusing man that she vacillated between loving him intensely and hating him with the same fervor. _Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character._ Twenty years had left Elizabeth with better understanding than her poor befuddled mother, but only marginally. Mr. Bennet had not done what was considered a gentleman's duty by providing dowries for his daughters, but was it possible he considered that akin to selling them to the best bidder? Did he want to weed out the inevitable fortune hunters in advance? Might he have some money put aside that nobody knew about? This was certainly the wrong time to be thinking about such things, so Elizabeth decided she would just take the good and defer the bad in her father's advice.

She pulled Miss Darcy aside, and whispered, _'That was badly done, Miss Darcy. You have put me in a very awkward position. I will ascribe this to your youth and lack of experience, and I will help you, but you need to accept that I am __helping__ you. I am __not__ the mistress of this estate.'_

She felt just a touch guilty when she saw the look of mortification on Miss Darcy's face, and saw her pale and shake a bit in fear.

"Courage, Miss Darcy. I am not angry… I am happy to be of help, but you must learn from the experience."

Stepping back over to the crowd, Elizabeth raised her voice to nearly a shout and began.

"I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and I am _assisting_ Miss Darcy because I have some extensive experience with Measles and management of large groups. I also need to tell you all that much of Sudbury burned a few hours ago, and we are to have perhaps fifty or sixty visitors. You will need to prepare for them. We shall also need to deal with the Measles cases you have seen. Shall we begin?"

Everyone nodded with varying degrees of excitement and looked towards her.

"I am new here and do not know anybody, so may I ask who the leaders are outside the house?"

A ruggedly handsome man of about twenty‑five stepped forward, and said, "Robert Breton, ma'am. I am the stable master."

A much older man, perhaps Elizabeth's father's age, stepped forward and said, "Johan Smith, ma'am. I am kennel master."

A third man, perhaps with forty years bowed and said, "James Barrington, ma'am. I am head gardener."

Elizabeth asked curiously, "Where is the steward, Miss Darcy?"

"Our luck is dreadful, Miss Bennet. Mr. Potter went to visit his family for a week. It is unusual for Fitzwilliam and Mr. Potter to be gone at the same time, but not unheard of for short periods."

Elizabeth nodded, and said, "These things happen, Miss Darcy. Your family has held this land for centuries. I have no doubt your brother left plenty of capable people to manage his estate. If I were not here at all, someone would step forward who knows what to do.

Georgiana looked at her skeptically but did not have enough courage to contradict her new friend.

Mr. Barrington, the gardener said quietly, "If I may make a suggestion, Miss Bennet?"

"Please, Mr. Barrington."

"I've six gardeners ma'am. Breton and Smith have maybe a dozen or so between them. I would suggest we all defer to Breton for everything outside the house. Should be simpler for you, ma'am."

Elizabeth looked at Georgiana, and said, "Miss Darcy?"

At first, Georgiana looked quite frightened, and then Elizabeth saw her swallow hard, try to stand up straighter, laughed a bit nervously, and said, "I believe Mr. Breton was practically tossed into Fitzwilliam's cradle as a babe. They have been practically inseparable since. I concur with Mr. Barrington."

Elizabeth sighed at having the first problem solved, because she was actually only around a fingers-width less nervous than Miss Darcy, and it was one of the smaller fingers at that.

She looked around a bit, and said, "Downstairs? I understand the butler and housekeeper are upstairs with the Measles?"

A woman of around thirty years and another man came forward, and said, "I am Jason Lovel, the head footman. This is my wife, Martha Lovel, the cook. I believe we can keep things afloat Miss Darcy… Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth looked at Georgiana, and she nodded.

Elizabeth tried to signal her to say something but gave up after a few seconds. Finally, she sighed and began.

"We will have a lot to do over the next several days. The most important is to ensure that the Measles does not spread to anybody else, _especially_ the villagers. To do that we will need to _quarantine_ the sick and keep them from the well. Now, I have read quite a lot about Measles, and nearly died from it myself, so I believe I know what to do."

She turned to Miss Darcy and asked loud enough for everyone to hear, since everyone in the house would either hear the conversation firsthand or secondhand through gossip, "Has the apothecary or a physician been by?"

"They have Measles in several other houses, but he did manage to visit. He just left an hour ago. He suggests that our quarantine is probably sufficient."

Elizabeth nodded, and said, "Very well, let us keep it like that. Did he suggest anything else?"

Georgiana started listing out all of his instructions for caring for the invalids, and Elizabeth was content to hear that they were all sensible, although a bit timid in her estimation, and already being implemented.

She asked, "Please raise your hands if you have known Measles before, and are willing to care for the invalids."

Perhaps a dozen raised their hands. Elizabeth was satisfied with the numbers.

Georgiana added, "There are two maids upstairs tending the invalids now, and a footman doing the fetching and carrying."

Elizabeth nodded, and replied, "Good, good…"

Then louder, she addressed the group.

"This situation is unusual, but not unprecedented. Those of you who have been here for decades I am sure have seen worse. I think for safety's sake, those of you on nursing duty must go to the guest wing and _stay there_. Miss Darcy, might we organize some of the guest rooms as quarters for those doing the nursing?"

"Of course!"

Elizabeth nodded, and said, "Very well. Let us mark the passage clearly, and nobody goes in or out of that part of the house for a week or two… at least while the villagers are here. We shall dedicate the entire wing to nursing. Agreed?"

Everyone around agreed, and the half‑dozen who had volunteered for the duty left to go about it. A maid of perhaps forty years stopped, and said, "If you please, ma'am. I did some nursing in the war. If you allow it, I shall take charge of those in the sickrooms. I have known measles, and also treated it from time to time. It was somewhat common among the soldiers."

Elizabeth breathed a huge sigh of relief, and looked to Georgiana, who eventually nodded.

Elizabeth looked at the maid and asked her name.

"Jenny Humphries, ma'am. I am widowed, and my children grown. I shall do my best."

Elizabeth said, "Very well, Mrs. Humphries. Keep the windows open, and the fires going. The idea of shut up rooms being healthy is just foolish. Make sure everyone has clean linens and night clothes. Change them regularly and either burn the old ones or put them somewhere to be washed by staff that have known measles. Make sure everyone gets water and broth and is kept as clean as you can. Beyond that, they will have to fight the disease themselves. If a physician shows up with bleeding tools, sick the dogs on them, but draughts from the apothecary might not be amiss."

Mrs. Humphries smiled in appreciation of both the humor, and the trust she was being shown.

Elizabeth said, "I shall assign footmen to carry wood, food and water to the border. Getting rid of waste could be a problem, though."

Georgiana said, "There is an outside staircase at the end of the wing. It is almost never used as it is awkwardly placed. Perhaps you might ask Mr. Breton to get someone to dig a latrine back there just for the waste from the invalids?"

Elizabeth nodded, and saw that Mr. Breton had quietly joined him.

The man looked to her for instruction, and said, "I shall see to it, ladies. There is time though, so on to the more pressing matters."

Elizabeth excused Mrs. Humphries to her duties, after giving some more instructions. She wanted to ensure that _nothing_ was shared between the invalids and the rest of the household. Between them, they worked out that everything from cooking pots to water buckets to chamber pots would never be shared between the groups, unless they were boiled first.

Finally satisfied that the decisions were well in hand, she send Mrs. Humphries off to her duties, while Mr. Breton delegated the tasks that people from the stable or garden could see to.

Elizabeth said, "Now, we must prepare for the villagers. Mr. Breton, I assume you can send someone to purchase supplies on credit?"

Georgiana said, "Of course, Miss Bennet. Spend as much as necessary. My brother will not begrudge the funds."

Elizabeth surprised herself just a bit with her very sharp, instant and instinctive reply, "Of course he will not!"

Georgiana, not quite content, said, "Do not be timid, Miss Bennet. He will be most cross if we have not done all that is proper for a man in this situation. Spend freely. We would not wish to appear miserly, would we?"

Elizabeth enjoyed the small smile Miss Darcy had added to the last bit of impertinence and thought the young lady might be getting over her shock. She then looked to Mr. Breton and saw him nodding vigorously.

"All right, Mr. Breton. Let us get to it. Send some wagons to the village… Lambton, I assume?"

He nodded.

"Assume the villagers will have just about nothing. Get bedding. As much as you can, of any quality you can. You have straw you can lay down?"

He nodded.

"All right, then sheets and blankets. If one of your men can bring a wife or mother, have them get the other things they will need. Night clothes for adults and children, but only what is available quickly. Any ready‑made dresses or trousers you can find. Perhaps some bolts of cloth and sewing supplies so they can make what is missing. Some simple medicines from the apothecary's shop, especially something useful for cough, as there will be a lot of smoke damage."

Breton said, "Easily done, Miss Bennet. My mother is quite sensible, and she lives in Lambton."

Elizabeth nodded, and continued, "Food, then. Get a side of beef or a hog, maybe. Some grain for porridge. Flour and sugar. Talk to Mrs. Lovel and get what she asks for. I believe all of us except those nursing can eat with the villagers. Simple food and plenty of it is what I recommend, and the cooking will need to start soon."

Mrs. Lovel said, "I can make a list for your man, Robert. Give me a quarter hour."

Elizabeth added, "With your permission Miss Darcy, perhaps some treats. Sweetmeats for the children. Perhaps a few inexpensive toys or books. Some wine, brandy or tobacco for the adults. Perhaps fresh bread. Just bring whatever the baker has left and ask him to deliver more each day."

Georgiana nodded enthusiastically, and added, "Do not stint, Mr. Breton. Let us be generous."

Elizabeth nodded, and then raised her voice for attention.

"One last thing. You all know the invalids. The disease can be hidden for up to a week, so if you have been in ANY contact with anyone sick in the past week, then you need to NOT be in contact with the villagers. Do not work in the kitchen or have any contact at all. _Is that clear?"_

Everyone nodded or said 'Aye' so, Elizabeth was satisfied that they had done all they could.

Elizabeth then turned to Georgiana, and said, "So, Miss Darcy. Let us take a look at your ballroom?"


	23. Ballroom

"Miss Bennet, I feel I must apologize."

Elizabeth looked at the lady in perplexity. They were walking down the corridor on the way to the ballroom and had separated from the others by a few feet so they could converse discreetly.

"I cannot imagine what for."

"I feel I have forced it upon you to do my job. Miss Darcy was not up to the surprise of your arrival, nor was I, but that is a weak excuse. It should not be up to a visitor to take over household matters. I should have done better upon your arrival."

Elizabeth said, "I see. And how long have you been companion to Miss Darcy, Mrs. Annesley?"

"Six months. Her last companion was… er… very bad, so Mr. Darcy decided to engage someone he could trust to help her through recovery, rather than someone focused on teaching her the duties of mistress."

Elizabeth looked at the companion in shock but was undecided what to be most shocked about – the fact that Mrs. Annesley confided in her, or the fact that Mr. Darcy hired a bad companion. Then of course, she had to wonder why she was shocked at any sign of incompetence in Mr. Darcy, but she could not think about that all day, so she decided to answer.

"I can see why you are embarrassed, Mrs. Annesley. In a whole six months, you did not manage to teach a sixteen‑year‑old girl how to improve in five minutes what took me, a lady four years her senior and considerably more experienced, two hours to work out. Yes, it is obvious why you are chagrined."

Much to her delight, Mrs. Annesley chuckled, and said, "You have an impertinent streak, Miss Bennet. I hope I am not being too cheeky when I tell you it reminds me very much of Mr. Darcy."

Elizabeth gasped, and said, "Mr. Darcy? You mean the Mr. Darcy who is master of this estate? Tall man, very handsome – are you certain?"

"Only when he is among the people that he knows best. When it is just his sister and the Colonel, talk like that could go on all night… and that is even before the brandy comes out."

Elizabeth laughed a bit, and decided she liked Mrs. Annesley very much.

"So, you do not know about managing an estate? What is it that you _do_ know, if you do not mind my asking, Mrs. Annesley?"

"I was a parson's wife for twenty‑four years, with two grown children to our credit. _I know who to trust, and I trust you._"

Elizabeth blushed a bit at the compliment.

"Is there any possible skill that could be more valuable than that, Mrs. Annesley? The rest is mostly manners, mechanics and common sense."

Mrs. Annesley chuckled at that, and said, "Well said, young lady."

They were approaching what appeared to be a big set of double doors that Elizabeth assumed was the ballroom, so she said, "Your charge will do fine, Mrs. Annesley. She had two big surprises she was unaccustomed to, appear within a few hours and is not a blubbering mess. What is she, perhaps sixteen? My sixteen-year-old sister falls apart if she cannot find the ribbon color she desires at the haberdashery."

Mrs. Annesley chuckled along with Elizabeth, and said, "Yes, yes… definitely impertinent."

Elizabeth looked around and added, "Mrs. Annesley, your charge need not learn _everything _today, but what say you to a lesson or two? It shall be much to her benefit and shall not harm the guests. To be honest, I could use her intimate knowledge."

"I am in agreement."

With that, they arrived at the ballroom and stepped inside. Elizabeth and Margaret looked around in awe, although their capacity for awe had been somewhat diminished by their ride in the rain. She just said, "This will do! This will do very well!"

Mrs. Annesley stepped up beside them and said, "Miss Darcy… Miss Elizabeth… would you please stand back to back for a moment."

Both ladies looked perplexed but did as directed.

"And now you, Miss Wythe."

Margaret did as Lizzy had done.

Mrs. Annesley turned to one of the maids.

"Martha, I believe this job is for you. Might you remove an inch and a half from Miss Darcy's green walking dress, and two from the yellow. Speed is more important than quality, so just pin the hems. That will allow our young ladies to get cleaned up a bit, hopefully before the villagers arrive."

She then turned to a footman and said, "Please request some warm water for them to clean themselves. They will not have time to go clean and change in their apartments, especially since Miss Darcy has not assigned them yet, so bring everything to the retiring room on the West side. While you are at it, might I suggest you have someone start heating a lot of water. You can store it in bathtubs if necessary. The villagers will be freezing and filthy. The heating takes a long time, so it is best to get on with it."

With that, she looked at Miss Darcy, who said, "Excellent suggestions, Mrs. Annesley. I applaud your thinking."

Mr. Breton said, "That is excellent thinking, Mrs. Annesley. By your suggestion, I can have some of the stable hands make a fire outside and start doing the same. We have some tubs for livestock that are perfectly clean and up to the task."

Elizabeth agreed with the scheme, and then after the remaining instructions had been given, a good bunch of the staff went off to start the work.

Miss Darcy said, "Mrs. Annesley, thank you for reminding me that I neglected rooms for our guests. Martha, please prepare the yellow suite for Miss Bennet and…"

Elizabeth interrupted and said, "We are happy to share a suite, Miss Darcy. We have done so before many times. It is no offense, and we would actually prefer it."

Miss Darcy looked somewhat excited by the idea, nodded, and said, "Their parents should go next door in the green suite."

As the bustle of servants leaving settled down, Miss Darcy looked at the ladies and said, "That is very good thinking, Mrs. Annesley… Miss Bennet… What is next?"

Mrs. Annesley looked at Elizabeth and raised an eyebrow. She had done all she planned to do for the moment, mostly because she did not have the vaguest idea what the next steps were; but she was happy that she had been reminded of her basic duty. She nodded to Elizabeth, who was thinking of that exact question.

_≈ Lizzy, a mistress of an estate must always be able to understand time and place. I know you think I am excessively silly, which is all fine and good, so you should be able to learn the lesson in a trice. I set a good table because I know what I have on hand, what I can get easily, what I need, where everyone is in my home, and how long everyone takes to get things done. We are rarely late to social engagements because I deem it important to arrive on time, despite six ladies in the house. When you are mistress, remember this and try to do even better than I do. ≈_

Elizabeth was a bit shocked to have a vision of her mother standing in front of her once again, talking perfect sense. Since her first bit of listening to her mother's advice had started this journey, which she had to admit was exceeding all her expectations, there was no reason not to at least hear her ghost out. As little as she generally liked to listen to her mother, she had to admit that she was right in this case.

At the time Mrs. Bennet had given this bit of sage advice, Elizabeth was sixteen, and wondering why she could not have one of her favorites for a dinner party that included the Lucases and Longs and was frankly being a bit unpleasant about the whole affair. She had only decided what she wanted that day, and was a bit put out that her mother could not conjure it for dinner. Another half‑hour discussion with her mother showed how, even if it were possible, that dish would not fit the overall theme of the evening, which she had not considered at all.

Elizabeth wondered where all that good sense had gone, and whether she should pay more attention to her own memories of her mother, and less to her father's endless teasing. It was certain her mother overspent their allowance, probably did not help with their dowries, and embarrassed them quite frequently; but she was more sensible than people gave her credit for, at least much of the time, if you could overlook the other times when she was not.

Elizabeth shook her head to dispel the ghost so she could quit woolgathering and said, "Miss Darcy. I must apologize for taking your place in our earlier discussions."

Miss Darcy gasped, and replied quickly, "No apology is necessary, Miss Bennet! You did what was necessary, and I would dearly hope you will continue. I do not believe we would have had the vaguest idea what to do, and I still do not."

Gently, Elizabeth said, "Yes, you would have known if you really had to, Miss Darcy. It is in your blood, even if you do not know it just yet. Have you not watched you father, your brother, your aunts and uncles for sixteen years? Did nothing stick? Do you think you are the very first Darcy woman in the last six centuries to face difficulty she was unprepared and untrained for? I know your brother. He would not leave his estate in incapable hands. If I were not here, someone else would step up to help you… BUT… I am here, and I will do my best, and if I may be so bold, perhaps teach you a bit."

"Do we have time for that?"

Elizabeth smiled, "Yes, we do. I shall have need of your knowledge, so let us begin."

Georgiana still looked frightened, so Elizabeth spread her hands and said, "Look around, Miss Darcy. We shall have somewhere between fifty and seventy visitors within the hour, I imagine. What do we need to do next?"

The girl just shook her head, her eyes a bit wide, and Elizabeth said, "Please, just look around this ballroom. Picture the space, and then picture people in it. Imagine this. Should your brother, in a wild flight of uncharacteristic frivolity, decide to host a ball with one hundred guests, would they fit?"

Georgiana looked perplexed, and Elizabeth said, "Surely, your mother must have done so in the past, Miss Darcy. You must have read her diaries, or her ancestors', or had stories from the housekeeper or other older retainers?"

Slowly, Miss Darcy said, "Yes, my mother did host such balls from time to time."

"Excellent. For how many people?"

"Fifty quite commonly, but over one hundred at least once."

"Very good. That means we can fit at least fit fifty people in here and get them out of the rain long enough to sort them out. You do understand though that it takes more space for people to set up beds and tables and the like, so it might be very tight, but at least hypothetically possible."

"Yes, Miss Bennet… I would agree."

"All right, next question. Suppose your brother wanted to have a house party…"

Georgiana giggled, and said, "You must not know my brother very well if you propose such a scheme."

Elizabeth laughed along with her and said, "I agree, I do not know your brother as well as I should, but that is neither here nor there. Suppose he took a wife, and she decided to hold a house party for perhaps thirty of your friends. Would the house be strained?"

To her credit, Georgiana scrunched her face in thought, and then finally said, "It has been done. I believe my mother had forty once, and she did not seem very worried about it."

"Well, you know that she would only have counted the gentry. That forty would have brought perhaps thirty servants for a total of seventy, and they all fit?"

"Yes", Miss Darcy drawled without very much confidence.

"So, we have room in this house for at least double what we have, if we are willing to put villagers in bed chambers. The guest wing is off limits for obvious reasons, but we should still have plenty of room."

"I suppose so!"

Elizabeth said, "Do not suppose, Miss Darcy. You are the mistress, and you should either know or take steps to find out. Now is your chance to show your brother the Darcy steel you must have in your spine. We have people coming who need accommodation. You know this house… I do not. I could probably organize it with Mrs. Reynolds help, or even just with Mr. Breton, but you need to take on the mistress role. _How shall we proceed, Miss Darcy?"_

The lady looked frightened, but less so than a few minutes before, so she looked back and forth between Miss Bennet, Mrs. Annesley and Miss Wythe, and finally asked, "Where do I begin?"

Elizabeth said, "Good! Do not worry, Miss Darcy. We will not let you fail. Let us begin with most important first. Some among the villagers will be injured. They must be cared for first. The rest will become bad tempered if they have to stand around too long, but they can wait for the injured. So, where can you put the injured to give them the most comfort possible?"

Elizabeth was happy to see Miss Darcy consider the problem carefully before answering.

"They obviously should be sheltered in apartments with comfortable beds. In that, you are correct, Miss Bennet. It is not complicated. The guest wing is unavailable, so I think the family wing!"

Now somewhat nervous herself, Elizabeth asked, "Are you certain your brother would approve that?"

Georgiana sniggered in a good approximation of Lydia, and said, "As you so correctly pointed out, my brother is not here. He can whinge about it at his leisure… later."

Elizabeth laughed along with her, and said, "So, let us work out the details together. You should make sure there are no valuables nearby. The villagers are honest, but it is best to remove temptation and ambiguity."

"There is a large linen closet on the floor. Mrs. Lovel, we will most likely need the linens for the villagers anyway, so perhaps we could have all of those delivered to the ballroom, then make a sweep through all the other rooms in the family wing and move anything small and valuable to the linen closet where it can be locked up."

Very gently, Elizabeth said, "We have time for that, Miss Darcy, but if we were short on time, you might skip that step altogether, or defer it. I should think the injured, along with their parents should be able to fit in a guest suite comfortably. A house like this could easily put five or ten in a suite. The bedding and such will be forfeit, but your brother will not care about that. I applaud your good sense."

"That is like applauding a horse for drinking once you have led him to the water, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth laughed at that, and said, "What else?"

"Light fires in the rooms to ward off the chill, and carry water for washing? If the fireplaces have pothooks, perhaps put on some water for warming."

Elizabeth nodded, and another of the footmen went off to set to the task.

Elizabeth said, "Well done, Miss Darcy, but do not only think of _now_, but tonight and the morning."

Darcy said, "Yes, normally the fires would be handled by the servants, but they may be busy. Perhaps some of the stable hands can stock some extra coal."

Elizabeth smiled, nodded her approval, and was happy to see Mr. Breton signal one of his men without being asked, so she continued, "Now for the ballroom."

"It has a door to the east side that opens to a courtyard. This is the ground floor, so they can bring in whatever they need, and park the rest in the wagons in the yard. The stables are just across the way and we can stack things or people in there if necessary."

Elizabeth smiled in approval, and said, "Very good. Now picture it. Villagers coming in wet, bedraggled, with squalling and frightened children. What do you do?"

Thus encouraged, Miss Darcy started walking through the ballroom issuing instructions.

"These sofas against that wall. We could cover them with sheets, but they are all about due for reupholstering anyway. They have been here since my mother's time, and I have occasionally been tempted to light one or two on fire just to force the issue. We should be able to bring in some parlor tables, or from the small breakfast nook. Get these fires lit post-haste and bring water. Get the stable boys to bring in some straw and stack it along those walls. Go to the stores and get some food people can eat quickly and have it readily available, perhaps cooking on the fireplace on the South wall. Tell the cook to make broth, stew and porridge starting right now."

Elizabeth noticed the servants nodding their heads and running off in different directions, and she smiled in satisfaction. She would occasionally offer a suggestion, or quietly slow down a footman or maid to suggest ways to accomplish the task or give Miss Darcy suggestions about the direction or frequency of her efforts; but she mostly left it to the actual mistress of the estate to manage things.

Elizabeth reflected that people frequently said it was 'in the blood' or 'blood would out'. She thought that may or may not be true, because years of living in a functioning house would train someone in a way that another upbringing would not. In the end, it did not matter. Miss Darcy had required a bit of a push, but she was showing herself to be a Darcy, not to be intimidated by a few unexpected guests.


	24. Parlor

_A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! I wish all of my readers a happy and prosperous new decade._

_It's not obvious, but the Hertfordshire timeline is about 1-2 weeks behind the Derbyshire timeline. Not sure how, or if I will fix it, but just deal with it. This is before the fire.  
Wade_

* * *

"Mr. Darcy, what did you do to our dear Mr. Wickham? Papa says he was a scoundrel, but he told me all about you, and I believe you just wanted him out of the way."

Darcy looked over at his antagonist in consternation and wondered just how far to go in correcting her. He looked around the parlor to see if any wisdom was forthcoming from his companions. Anne and Jane were sitting together in a small cluster talking quietly. They heard Miss Lydia and turned their attention towards them, but neither lady seemed inclined to meddle.

Anne liked to keep Mary Taylor in the group as well, although Mrs. Bennet found it quite odd. Anne explained it by her need to train Mary as a lady's maid, but Darcy knew he did it just so she would have a chance to converse with him about Robert Breton. There had already been quite a number of stories about the childhood companions, which inevitably mentioned Wickham from time to time, usually in a negative light. Darcy had been quietly talking to Miss Taylor for some time and had almost forgotten the youngest Bennet sister before she interrupted.

Seeing no help for it, he asked, "Why do you think that, Miss Lydia? Do you trust Mr. Wickham over your own father?"

"You should ask Lizzy. He told her about the living you denied him. He gave all the particulars… dates, places, everything. If he had the living he was promised, he would not be running up debts."

"Yes, that is true… but did you ever consider that maybe he did not want to take the living my father so generously provided him?"

"Why would someone not want a good competence? I mean… well, being a clergyman is nothing to being an officer, but it is a good situation. Who would turn it down?"

"Who indeed, Miss Lydia. Who indeed!"

Seeing he did not really seem to be breaking through, Darcy decided to take another tack.

"Miss Lydia, do you _truly_ want to know, or do you just want to tweak my nose a little. I am happy either way, as I could use a bit of nose tweaking from time to time, but I would like to know how best to proceed in answering your query."

For the first time in his acquaintance, Lydia Bennet stopped giggling long enough to give him a long, searching look. When she was finally satisfied with her exam, she replied.

"I would really like to know, Mr. Darcy. It seems like the two of you switched characters. First, he was amiable, and you were disagreeable. Now you appear to be amiable while he is judged disagreeable. Which is true?"

Darcy laughed, and said, "I should hope that our true characters are being revealed, Miss Lydia. Perhaps I can alleviate some of your confusion. Would a small lesson in life be acceptable? I promise, you can disregard it as much as you like."

"If it is interesting."

"Very well, let us make it interesting. Can I assume know what a _hypothetical _is?"

"Of course! I am not as stupid as I seem, Mr. Darcy; and besides that, Lizzy badgers us almost constantly about our '_vocabulary'_, so it's best to at least know what words mean."

"Very well, let us use a hypothetical. Imagine we have a young lady. We shall hypothetically call her 'Miss Linda'. Now, Miss Linda hypothetically met a man clandestinely… alone. We could call this man 'Captain Carson', and perhaps put their imaginary meeting place in a meadow very similar to the one between the live oak on the western border of Longbourn, and the Jamison barn. Entertaining enough?"

All the ladies in the room were now staring at him, but Lydia was staring daggers and balling her fist.

Not to be intimidated by a potential future tantrum, Darcy continued.

"Now, let us say that 'Miss Linda' wished to conceal this completely inappropriate meeting with a lie. Now comes the lesson. Should she say she passed by that field on the way to Meryton and perhaps saw a redcoat but did not talk to him; or should she say she visited her good friend Miss Mason in Luger Lodge; or should she say she visited her Aunt and Uncle Farrier in Town?"

Darcy sat back and watched Lydia go through several shades of red and white, while being unable to speak a word. After giving her a minute to think, he asked, "Well, Miss Lydia, what lie do you recommend for 'Miss Linda'?"

Lydia looked around for help, but finally said, "I imagine she could either tell the truth, or the first choice; she saw him but did not talk to him."

"Why?"

Lydia looked frightened, and said, "Because it is closest to the truth. She is less likely to get caught out."

Darcy leaned forward, and said, "Exactly! You see, Miss Lydia, that is precisely what Mr. Wickham does, but he has been practicing spinning lies with all the appearance of truth since we were small boys. Neither you nor Miss Elizabeth should feel chagrinned about misunderstanding him. The man has a talent for lying sufficient that he kept my father convinced of his good nature until his death."

Lydia looked half‑frightened and half‑confused, and replied, "So, you are saying that everything he said is a lie?"

"Not all of it, but he never speaks without looking for his own advantage. He knows to sprinkle enough truth in to cover up the lies. For example, my father did recommend him for a living in his will, and I did deny him the living. That is true. What it leaves out is that three years before I denied him the living, he came to me and begged me to help him study the law because he thought himself not very interested in sermons. So, he asked, and I granted him £3,000 in exchange for signing away the rights to the living, in addition to the £1,000 given to him outright in my father's will. He squandered £4,000 in three years. Have you any idea of how much money that is?"

Lydia shook her head, and said, "No, I do not understand money."

Darcy looked over to Mary Taylor to see if she was interested in joining the discussion, and as he had hoped, she stepped in.

"Miss Lydia, I was a maid of all work in your uncle's house. Your uncle pays _very_ well. He is the most generous employer I know of. I had my room and board and £30 per annum, which is much more than most servants get. Mr. Darcy gave Mr. Wickham the amount I would earn in 100 years in exchange for the living."

Lydia looked sufficiently shocked, and Darcy continued.

"Miss Lydia, if he had put that money in the four percents, he would have drawn £160 per annum. With that income, he could have a small house and two or three servants until the end of his life. It is less money than a living, which generates around £500 per annum, but perfectly enough to take a wife and live comfortably with several children. Or, he could have studied the law as he indicated he wished to. He would make a _phenomenal_ barrister if he ever applied himself. That glib tongue could make him untold wealth, _honestly._ However, he chose to throw it all way in gambling, which he is very bad at, and seducing naïve women, like you."

Miss Taylor leaned forward, and said, "I have seen the like before, Miss Lydia. I assure you they are nothing but trouble."

Anne joined in by saying, "Miss Lydia, may I ask you something a bit blunt. Do you think you are a valuable person? Are you _worthy_ of a decent man with a good living?"

Lydia answered with a burst of anger that Darcy and Anne were actually happy to see, "Of course, I am!"

Not to be outdone, Anne matched her tone for tone, and said, "So WHY do you plan to throw away your virtue on a redcoat without two farthings to rub together? That is the inevitable outcome if you follow your current course. Captain Carter is no different from Mr. Wickham, and there will be dozens or hundreds waiting behind him."

Lydia was still fuming, but at least silently.

Jane, surprisingly said, "They are right, Liddy. _That is what the rules of propriety are for. _They seek to protect us. They cannot protect us from everything in the world, but if we follow them, they will protect us from the most obvious and common mistakes. To some extent, they protect us from ourselves, if we will only follow the most sensible parts. You need not slavishly follow everything, but at least follow those that support self‑preservation. You can laugh and have fun… we will not censure you for that… but please Liddy, please, do not put yourself and your sisters at risk for a few moment's diversion. Any man worth knowing will respect you and follow the rules."

Judging the lesson learned as well as it was likely to, Mr. Darcy said, "Of course, Miss Linda's story never happened. After all, it was entirely hypothetical, and I just made the whole thing up."

Lydia let out a huge sigh of relief, beamed a big smile at him, and said, "I thank you, Mr. Darcy. You have a way of speaking that makes sense. Now you are halfway through, so shall we finish."

Darcy just looked at her in befuddlement, so Anne decided to help him out.

"William, she means you have adequately explained Mr. Wickham, but not your own change."

Not certain he wanted to be explicit, he prevaricated a bit, until Anne decided to let him off the hook.

"Miss Lydia, you are operating under a misconception. May I be allowed to answer for my cousin?"

Lydia just giggled and nodded her head, and all was right with the world again.

"Well, you see… you are making a common error. You are mistaking _manners_ for _character_. My cousin's _character_ is absolutely sterling. He is a good and generous master, diligent in his duties, affable to the poor, conscientious with his retainers, fair in his business dealings, takes care of those in need. That is his _character_. That is fixed and immutable."

Lydia just stared at him in surprise, trying to work out if this was the truth. Anne gave her a minute to absorb that before continuing.

"What he presents to the world is his _manners_, and I must admit that for most of his life, they have been _atrocious._"

Lydia giggled, while Darcy laughed out loud, but said nothing. Far be it from him to correct his cousin's narrative.

"Not only are his manners the exact opposite of the unlamented Mr. Wickham, but he has also been hunted by every fortune‑hunting debutante in England since he came of age. Imagine if every unpleasant man you ever met was vying for your attention every day, so you could not even distinguish the good from the bad. Then imagine that continuing _for a decade_. He has been avoiding entanglements since you were five‑years‑old, Miss Lydia. Perhaps you might show him some clemency."

Much to Darcy's surprise, Lydia sat almost preternaturally still for at least a minute, staring at him. Her face screwed up in confusion, and she finally said, "Five-years-old, you say. A decade. Have there been a lot of Miss Bingleys, Mr. Darcy?"

"More than I can count, Miss Lydia."

She stared at him a moment longer, and said, "Well, I understand half of it now."

He just raised his eyebrows and nodded for her to continue.

"I now understand your _old_ manners, but your _current _manners… they… they…"

He saw her face scrunch up again, but then he saw what looked like a dawning comprehension and had to admit that Miss Lydia looked quite pretty when she was not giggling. He could see the echo of her sisters in her countenance and wondered what she would be with a bit more age and experience. Perhaps a few months under Mrs. Annesley's guidance would not go amiss.

Miss Lydia smiled, and said, "I see it now… it is all so obvious!"

"Pray, enlighten us, Miss Lydia?"

She giggled again, and said, "Well, Sir… you have right here in this parlor three women who not only do not fawn all over you, but all seem like they will smack your knuckles with a ruler if you step out of line. I imagine there is only one other woman that treats you like that. Were you ever going to tell us that you are here pretending to protect your cousin, who obviously does not need it, just so you could wait for Lizzy to return?"

Darcy laughed a bit uncomfortably and looked at her in consternation.

"I shall answer your question, Miss Lydia, but I must _demand_ you keep our confidence. Your sister's reputation, and in turn, your reputation could be damaged by what I am about to tell you."

"I swear, Mr. Darcy. I will not even tell Kitty."

"I proposed to your sister, and I am awaiting an answer."

Lydia's mouth hung open in surprise for a moment, and then her face turned into a smile lit up the room like the sunrise. She asked, "So, what did she say to you?"

With a sinking feeling of déjà vu, Darcy said, "She did not say a single word. She just left the room, got on the first outbound coach and has been hiding from me for a month."

Lydia laughed, and said, "That is probably for the best. She would have set the room afire if she started talking. I assume my father has told you by now that she does not esteem you."

"Yes, I have been made aware. I have work to do."

With a laugh, Lydia said, "I take back everything I ever said about you, Mr. Darcy. You are not in the least disagreeable, once you get past that thick skin of yours. You will make a very good brother… if you survive… eventually."

With another laugh, Lydia jumped up from the sofa and dragged Mary off to trim bonnets or learn about dressing Anne or something along those lines, while Jane, Anne and Darcy breathed a sigh of relief.


	25. Courtyard

George Wythe was feeling every one of his forty‑five years as he stepped down from the carriage after a long and unpleasant ride through the rain. The trip had been longer and more difficult than expected; although any reasonable man expected most things to be longer and more difficult than expected.

As he was helping his even older companion down, he saw Elizabeth Bennet run out of a large side door in the manor house, followed by his Margaret and another girl of about Margaret's age. That trio was immediately followed by a man of about five and twenty dressed as a leader – perhaps the stablemaster, head gardener or the like. He was followed by what were obviously a half‑dozen stable hands, and a like number of footmen carrying umbrellas and a few pallets.

The two groups quickly converged, and the unknown young lady stepped forward and began speaking animatedly.

"Mr. Selkirk, welcome back to Pemberley, though I could wish for better circumstances for your visit."

"I thank you, Miss Darcy. It has been some years, and I see you are all grown."

"Might I presume this is your father, Margie?"

The three ladies had been running ragged for the past four hours trying to be certain everything was in readiness, and they had adopted the use of Christian Names almost automatically the first time Lizzy and Margie spoke to each other.

"Yes. Papa, may I introduce you to Miss Georgiana Darcy. She is Mr. Darcy's sister. Georgie, may I make you known to my father, Mr. George Wythe."

Georgiana curtsied and said, "Welcome to Pemberley, Mr. Wythe. We are happy to have you here, and you shall always be welcome. Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Margaret Wythe, might I introduce you to Mr. Selkirk. Mr. Selkirk, Miss Bennet and Miss Wythe. Miss Bennet is a trusted friend of my brother. Lizzy, Margie, Mr. Selkirk is the mayor of Sudbury."

Elizabeth laughed at herself a bit. She had thought she was stepping over bounds presuming to invite the inhabitants to Pemberley, but just as she had told Miss Darcy, they would have ended up here anyway if she had done nothing.

Two of the footmen stepped up with umbrellas and stood close to the gentlemen sheltering them from the rain while awaiting instruction.

Selkirk asked, "Is your brother at home, Miss Darcy?"

"No, Sir, but do not fret. Miss Bennet has assisted me, and we are well prepared for however many people you choose to bring. We should get out of the rain, so let us be quick about it. There are a few things you should be aware of, Sir."

"Yes, ma'am."

"First off, you should know that we have a few cases of Measles in Pemberley. We have isolated them in the guest wing of the house, and believe we can keep everyone separated adequately, but you must be absolutely certain everyone that enters the house understands they are NOT under any conditions to enter any corridors blocked by white sheets. I will have your word on this, Sir."

Selkirk nodded, put his chin in his hands for a moment, and asked, "Where are you planning to place us, Miss Darcy?"

"The ill and injured are to go into the Family Wing. The rest in the ballroom. I am sorry we cannot offer the guest wing."

"The ballroom will do splendidly, Miss Darcy. I will need to send men to Lambton for bedding and the like."

"Already taken care of, Sir. Just get everyone inside and out of the rain."

"Understood. Are there any other rules, Miss Darcy?"

"Just two, Sir. The first is that we expect proper behavior. We understand life is difficult for the villagers, but we will not accept that as an excuse for theft or anything else disagreeable."

Selkirk sighed, and replied, "That should not even need to be said, Miss Darcy, but you are correct to do so. There are always a few hotheads in any group who need it specified explicitly, and occasionally with fists. We will see to it."

Georgiana nodded, and then said, "One last thing, Mr. Selkirk. We ladies are sharing responsibilities, and between the three of us, we make one fair mistress. However, there must be _one_ true leader, so I would ask you to impress upon everyone that enters my home that Miss Bennet's word is law."

Elizabeth just managed to stop herself from gasping and looked at Georgiana in consternation. She had to sheepishly admit that she had been outplayed. She obviously could not countermand the very first order from the true mistress of the manor, so apparently for the duration she was to act as more mistress than she really cared for.

Elizabeth stared at Georgiana to indicate that there would be discussion and possible retribution later; but then she was suddenly struck by a thought that made her gasp. _Possible retribution later, _was a thought that flowed right into her mind without the slightest twinge. It was as if she were planning to thump one of her sisters later. She had as much as tacitly admitted to herself that her relationship with Miss Georgiana Darcy would _have a later. _Perhaps, she might have to think on that… later.

She looked at the men and was disconcerted to see two men of her father's generation, one a mayor and the other a very successful businessman, looking to her for instruction. Yes, she was definitely going to thrash Georgiana Darcy, but for the moment, there was work and responsibility to be dealt with.

"Who do we have in the carriage, Mr. Selkirk?"

"We have two adults and five children who are quite ill, ma'am. Two have nasty burns, and the others are all done in from smoke. The apothecary bandaged them up, but it will not hold forever."

"Their families?"

"Following behind. One young boy is alone in the world. Both of his parents perished and he has no siblings."

Elizabeth nodded, and asked, "How old is he, and what is wrong with him?"

"Smoke, mostly. I believe he will recover well enough. He has maybe twelve years."

"Does he have any friends coming?"

"Yes, in about a half‑hour."

Elizabeth thought, and said, "Mr. Breton, the boy should be with his friends, but might you assign one of your hands to look in on him from time to time. Maybe take him to see the horses, put him to work when he feels up to it. It might make him brood less."

Breton said, "Even better, ma'am. I have a man of eighteen years who is newly married. I believe his wife would not be averse to taking him in until we find a better situation."

Elizabeth just nodded and carried on.

"For the rest of the injured, distribute them in the family wing as Miss Darcy said. She looked at two of the footmen, and then turned to get at the task."

Mr. Wythe said quietly, "Those that were burned the worst were taken into other houses in the village, Miss Bennet. The apothecary will stay there to tend them, but for those with smoke, he judged the clean air worth the ride in the rain."

In some ways, Elizabeth hated the fact that she was back to 'Miss Bennet' for Mr. Wythe, but she understood the necessity. Georgiana Darcy had ceded the responsibility to her, and it was up to her to carry it until one of the Matlocks or Mr. Darcy returned.

"We sent riders for apothecaries from Lambton and Kympton. One or both should show up soon. Are there more injured coming?"

"Yes. One more carriage full. Then about an hour back, should be the rest of the villagers."

Elizabeth nodded, and said, "Very well. The men all know what to do. Let us get you inside."

She turned to another footman who had come out from the ballroom, and said, "Nathaniel, this is Mr. Wythe. He is Miss Wythe's father. Please take his trunks to the Green suite. I hope you know where it is, because I have no idea."

Georgiana giggled a bit, and the young footman could not stifle a small laugh. Elizabeth laughed along with him, and said, "Off with you, young man."

* * *

The next eight hours seemed like they consumed a full two day. It all had seemed so simple! _'Open the ballroom! Get out of the way! All will be well! So Simple!'_

Perhaps it all would have worked out if they had simply opened the doors and done nothing, but once everyone was told she was the effective mistress, it seemed like most of their ability to make decisions went out the window. To be fair, everybody knew they were uninvited guests, and nobody wanted to get on the wrong side of Mr. Darcy. When there was an important decision to be made, almost nobody seemed comfortable with just making it and implementing it. She would occasionally force Georgiana, Margaret or Mr. Breton to deal with something, but most of the time it was simplest to just decide, assign a responsible person, and move on to the next crisis.

By the time it got full dark, with the help of everyone who would have done the same thing _without_ her help, they managed to get the fires lit in the kitchen and food cooking in prodigious quantities. True to her earlier instructions, they quickly had beef broth and porridge, and they had meat and vegetables a few hours later. She sent men to Lambton and Kympton to buy out everything the local baker could spare and ordered the same each day for a week. She even got so she did not flinch at the cost, after about the fifth time Georgiana chided her not to obsess about trivialities.

Finally, well after midnight, she had all of the guests asleep, or at least laying somewhere. She had seen all the injuries tended to. She had personally spoken with every adult for at least a couple of minutes, and most of the children had been given sweetmeats. Elizabeth wondered why in the world Georgiana thought it essential for Elizabeth to give them out, but after an hour, Elizabeth had just found she did not have the energy to argue with all the villagers _and _Miss Darcy.

Georgiana spent the same amount of time doing just about the same things, but in most cases, she made it clear that Elizabeth was the one in charge. Elizabeth eventually lost her temper and asked about it. She pulled Georgiana aside into an anteroom where they could speak privately.

"Georgie, that was an underhanded trick, assigning me responsibility like that. I do not mind, but I do wish you would have at least warned me."

Miss Darcy at least had the good grace to blush but stood her ground.

"Lizzy, have you ever felt like someone from your past was standing right in front of you talking to you."

Elizabeth got very uncomfortable with that line of questioning, particularly since this whole experience had started out with her taking her mother's advice.

She looked around to be sure nobody was listening, and said, "Yes, I admit I do. I would not ordinarily tell anyone this, but I sometimes see people standing in front of me dispensing advice. I realize it is only a trick of the mind, but it works, and I tend to listen… though like anything, the advice is not always good. Perhaps I will tell you one day of the time I took my… well, enough of that for now. I do know what you mean, but I would not tell very many people if I were you. It is generally best not to be thought mad."

Georgiana whispered, _'My father came to me right as I was walking up to the coach out in the courtyard. It is if he were standing there in front of me. Do you wish to know what he said?'_

With some trepidation, Elizabeth said, "Go on."

_≈ Someday, my peach, you will be the mistress of a household. You will be a leader, so you should think a little bit about what makes one. Sometimes, people will follow just because of your position. The Mistress would be followed without question no matter her qualifications. However… This is important. A leader is mostly someone that people will follow. When you are grown, I would hope you have learned to lead, and not just use your position as a crutch. People will follow you with their minds as the mistress of an estate, but they will follow you with their hearts if you are a person worthy of being followed. That is a leader. ≈_

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in shock, and then said, "I do not see how that applies."

"Can you not see, Elizabeth? I _will be_ someone that people will follow _someday_. You gave me the best beginning for that earlier today, and I have complete confidence in my ability to do that _later. _However, according to my father, we needed a leader _now_. I just looked around and found the one person I was willing to follow."

Elizabeth had no idea whether to feel honored or annoyed, but the die was cast so it was time to quit whining about it anyway.

"I suspect your brother will be seriously displeased, but I will do my best."

"On the contrary, Lizzy. My brother will be inordinately pleased. He will be angry with himself for not being here, but he will be very well pleased that he was superfluous."

Elizabeth had to laugh at that, and the conversation ended as a maid came to them with two problems to solve. Elizabeth very pointedly crossed her arms across her chest in a stern fashion, and Georgiana made the decisions without complaint. Elizabeth was happy that Georgiana was starting to take back the role of mistress, but Georgiana just thought she was following orders as was right and proper.

* * *

Finally, well into the wee hours of the morning, Elizabeth got a maid to lead her to her chamber. She had sent Margaret to bed hours earlier, and Georgiana not much later, but she was not quite ready to sleep until she felt like she had seen that everything was as it should be.

The maid asked if she could stand five minutes of delay so they could pin a dress to be prepared for the morrow. Elizabeth was not very enthusiastic for the plan, but thought it was her duty to allow the staff to present their de‑facto mistress in her best light.

Twenty minutes later, she had washed up, and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.


	26. Dressing Room

"Miss Bennet, it is time to wake up."

Elizabeth woke with a start and looked blearily at the maid that had gently shaken her awake, who said, "It is seven o'clock, and you asked to be awakened."

Elizabeth nodded, and found that she woke up very quickly once she realized that there were things to be done. She surprisingly felt quite refreshed, wondering if even the beds in Pemberley were magic in some way.

"Thank you… my apologies, I did not get your name yesterday."

The maid, a kindly looking woman of perhaps forty years replied, "You did not miss it, ma'am. I was visiting some tenants for Mrs. Reynolds on the other side of the estate. I returned late last night."

Elizabeth was no longer surprised that Pemberley took care of its tenants, whether Mr. Darcy was in attendance or not. It was just the way things were obviously done on the estate.

The maid gave a small curtsy which might have seemed silly with Elizabeth still lying in bed, but she managed to make it seem like the right thing to do, and said, "I am Molly Stewart, ma'am. If you have no objections, I should like to serve as your lady's maid."

Elizabeth said, "I have no objections, thought I do not believe I need one for more than a dozen minutes per day. Should I address you as 'Molly', 'Stewart' or something else?"

"'Stewart' would be perfect, ma'am, and I will dispute the dozen minutes per day."

Elizabeth laughed a bit, and said, "I see, you have heard the rumors of the disagreeable dragon lady, I presume? Or perhaps, you know how frightful my hair is to control, or my extreme pickiness in all things clothing related."

Molly laughed, and said with a smile, "Perhaps I need to see to catching up on the gossip, Miss Bennet. My friends neglected to mention any of those things, but the day is young."

Elizabeth laughed along with her, and said, "Well Stewart, what shall we do with our dozen minutes."

"I have taken the liberty of bringing you a tray. Stockton told me you did not eat nearly enough last night. I do not know your preferences, so we just brought a variety. Once you are done with that, I will need you to try on your dress. They hemmed the sleeves and length last night, but I believe it needs some work on the bodice. I will see to that while you have your bath."

A bath sounded heavenly, and Elizabeth was by no means going to demure on that particular instruction, so she climbed out of bed and put on a dressing gown. She did not know which rooms she had been assigned, but knew she was in the family wing, and looked around the room in delight.

_It was a large, well‑proportioned room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, which they had descended _in the rain the previous day_, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on its banks and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it, with delight._

It had stopped raining and had all the appearance of being a perfectly sunny day, thought the ground would obviously be muddy. Peering here and there through the window, Elizabeth got a better look at the estate and smiled in wonder. She had seen Pemberley reasonably well through a short break in the rain the previous day from across the valley, though at the time she had not taken the effort to really appreciate it.

_It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal nor falsely adorned._ Remembering the view from the previous day,_ Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. _

Sighing in resignation that she would not be able to explore, she went into the sitting room to begin her day. There she found a tray with just about every kind of breakfast food she could imagine.

"I cannot possibly eat all this."

"Do not worry, Miss Bennet. Eat what you wish, and we shall see to the rest."

Not normally a person for a large breakfast, Elizabeth sat down to nibble at the porridge, but soon found it gone, along with several slices of ham, an egg, a half‑dozen rolls, a cup of coffee and another of chocolate.

"I imagine I was hungrier than I thought."

"Yes, ma'am. Now, we just have time to pin the dress before your bath."

Elizabeth looked at the dress presented, and said, "Truly Stewart, that dress does not need any work. I wore one of Miss Darcy's dresses yesterday, and it was perfectly adequate."

Stewart looked at her sternly, and said, "_'Perfectly Adequate'_ will not do for the mistress of this house, Miss Bennet."

Surprised that she was not snapping at the woman, Elizabeth said kindly, "I am _not_ the mistress of this house. I am simply helping Miss Darcy."

"No, ma'am. For all intents and purposes, you are the mistress, and…"

Elizabeth saw the moment that the maid thought her tongue ran away from her head, and an embarrassed look passed over her face.

She gently asked, "… and?"

"'Tis not my place, ma'am."

Elizabeth said, "It is not my place to be acting as mistress either, so we are even. Please tell me what you were about to reveal. As you say, I am mistress for perhaps another day until Lord and Lady Matlock appear. It would help me to know what is being said below stairs. If I am doing damage that Mr. Darcy will have to repair, I would at least like to know what it is."

Looking shocked, Stewart said, "_'Damage'_, how could you even think that. No, Miss Bennet. People have said that you took this role reluctantly, but executed it perfectly, with grace and intelligence. They are hoping that… well…"

"Go on, I shall not censure you."

"Well, they are hoping for a permanent mistress. If not you, then someone very much like you."

Elizabeth stared at the maid with a sinking feeling in her gut, but it was nowhere near as distressing as it should have been. She had known that her reputation might not survive this experience intact. There could be nothing worse than being seen as a grasping mercenary, intent on forcing her way into an estate. She might very well be beyond the moment when she would be _required_ to accept Mr. Darcy's proposal just to remain respectable.

"What do the people of the area think of me, Stewart. Am I likely to be starting rumors along those lines? Will my reputation survive this experience?"

Stewart looked shocked, and said, "Of course it will, Miss Bennet. Everyone for a dozen miles has heard the story of a young lady who stepped in to help her particular friend, Miss Darcy. You are attributed only the highest of motives. Nobody believes you are scheming to become Mrs. Darcy, but… well, we can hope and dream."

Elizabeth sighed, and said, "It is a bit of a muddle, Stewart. I do not suppose there is any talking you out of an hour improving that dress. You seem like a woman who will agree with me on every particular, nod your head sympathetically, but make certain all of my instructions precisely match your desires."

Both women laughed at that, though both strongly suspected there was more truth than jest in the statement.

"Well, let us get on with it. I would not want to embarrass this fine estate."

* * *

Elizabeth thought there could not possibly be a finer pleasure in life than a hot bath after a dirty and dusty day. She reveled in the simple pleasure of having hair that was clean, and free of smoke and ash. She decided to indulge herself with at least a quarter hour of simply soaking and was pleased to see Stewart joined her in a chair in the corner, to work on her dress.

"Stewart, what can you tell me about Mr. Darcy?"

"Which one, Miss Bennet. I have known the present master since he was breeched, and his father before that."

"Either one… both… well, we do not have all day, so tell me something interesting."

Stewart drew a few more threads, and said, "Both are the finest men I know. I assume you must know that, since it must be perfectly obvious to anyone who knows them well. The current master _is the best landlord, and the best master, that ever lived. There is not one of his tenants or servants but will give him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men."_

Elizabeth would have been astonished to hear that, and vigorously denied it a few weeks ago, but a long time spent reflecting on the man had left her in a more receptive mood. She had known him for six weeks in Hertfordshire, and another fortnight in Kent, most of it in social situations where all intercourse was constrained by both the rules of propriety, and to be honest, her prejudice against the man because he had found her not handsome enough to dance with. In Hertfordshire, they were also nearly constantly dodging the cloying attentions of Miss Bingley, which did not add any pleasure to an interaction.

In realty, she did not know the man at all, but was beginning to reevaluate all of their interactions. At the moment, she was at least disposed to listen and learn. After all, she had two months of acquaintance, while Stewart had over twenty years, and Miss Darcy had a lifetime. Was this not what she had been scratching for in Kympton and Matlock?

Very cautiously, she said, "You present a very good picture of the gentleman, though I must confess, I have not seen that aspect of him."

Stewart looked shocked, and then said, "Perhaps you did not see him at his best, Miss Bennet. I know that in society, he tends to shyness and reserve, which comes across as haughtiness. I believe the ladies of the ton have been hunting him for years, and he does not react well. He is especially vulnerable when he meets marriageable ladies with, how shall I say it, 'ambitious' mothers."

"Perhaps. So, what makes you think I am not just another huntress, who has found a better strategy. I can assure you, I know ladies who would jump at the chance to do what I have done to force his hand."

Stewart looked down at her sewing for a minute, and said, "He is very much like his father, Miss Bennet. You are right… you _could_ probably force his hand after this, but nobody in this house believes you _would_, and to be honest, there are those who would consider that outcome nearly ideal. This house needs a _permanent _mistress."

Elizabeth gasped, but Stewart just laughed a bit.

"Do not worry, Miss Bennet. Those are just dreams. Nobody but me would dare speak them aloud, and I would not to anybody but you."

"You have known me all of an hour, Stewart."

"I have known Miss Darcy since she was born, Miss Bennet, and Mr. Breton as long as Mr. Darcy. They trust you, and that is good enough for me."

"So, tell me about Mr. Darcy."

For the next hour, as she finished her bath, dried her hair and got her dress altered, Elizabeth got the first true, first‑hand, honest assessment of Mr. Darcy. If Stewart was to be trusted, he did indeed sound like the best of men. Stewart did not stint in praise, nor was she shy about telling when he did something disagreeable, which happened as often as it might for anybody.

She had quite a lot to say about the three boys that grew up together. She could not say enough good things about two of them, nor enough bad things about the third. Elizabeth was shocked to learn just how very _bad _Mr. Wickham appeared to be, and she became ashamed that she fell for his tale so readily. She had already decided he was unreliable, but now had to entertain the shocking idea that he _deliberately lied, specifically_ to paint Mr. Darcy in a bad light. Stewart did not know all the particulars, but believed he was an especially bad man, and that he would do just about anything to injure the master, any chance he got. Furthermore, not only _could_ he do it, but he _had_ done it more than once.

Elizabeth had the uncomfortable thought that like a ship who took the wrong river, Mr. Wickham had pointed her in the wrong direction, and she had taken just about every interaction after that point in a negative light, just because it matched her first impression. She resolved that she would have to go back to basics and rethink every single interaction, with the idea that Mr. Darcy was being as honest as he could under the circumstances, which was admittedly not without fault. Stewart was just about done with the dress, when Elizabeth suddenly gasped with fright at a startling thought. Poor Stewart thought she might have stuck her with a pin, and it took a moment to convince her otherwise, but at the end of that, a thought struck her like a lightning bolt.

_Suppose Mr. Darcy started feeling an attraction to her but found her circumstances not adequate for the Mistress of Pemberley. He had no indication that she could manage a large estate. Her younger sisters were noisy flirts, her mother was an ill‑mannered mercenary who made no bones about it. Her father was an indolent master who left daughters with no dowries or education to speak of. She had no connections, no wealth, marginal beauty and accomplishments; in short, nothing to recommend her. Suppose he felt some attraction anyway, or even fell in love as he claimed. Not love as a man is expected to declare in a proposal out of form, but __true__ love, of the kind that a man could not ignore. He would be __honor bound__ to keep his distance, __not__ raising any expectations until he was __certain__. When he was certain, he would have to make his intentions known, but before that, he could not in good conscience do so, for fear of raising expectations that could not be met and then damaging a lady and her reputation as had happened to her poor sister. The Mr. Darcy that Stewart described, would not do that._

All of a sudden, it seemed like Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was not so very complicated after all. He may well be just what he appeared to be – a man who fell in love very much against his will, against his reason, against his family and societal expectations, and against his better judgment.

If that was the case, it begged a single question. _Was that a bad thing__?_


	27. Oakham Mount

"Mr. Darcy, are you ever planning to tell the rest of us what you are _really_ doing in Hertfordshire?"

"What do you mean, Miss Mary?"

Darcy had been caught off guard by the question, mainly because he was deep in thought. The spring day was warm and pleasant, so Mrs. Bennet had sent the entire lot off to walk to Oakham Mount. She had not entirely given up on the idea of Jane being paired with Mr. Darcy, or with the gentleman bringing Mr. Bingley back somehow. Thus determined, she made sure Darcy was escorting her eldest and most eligible daughter, and then shooed them out the door so she could have some peace and quiet.

Naturally, that arrangement only lasted until they were out of sight of the house. At that point, Anne commandeered Jane and set out slightly ahead of everyone because they were _in each other's confidence and had secret affairs to discuss. _Kitty and Lydia continued their usual pairing, excluding everyone and everything.

That left Mary to walk beside Darcy, which he did not mind in the least. He offered her his arm, and she looked at it in some confusion, as if no gentleman had ever done such a thing before. She took a moment to finally put her hand into the crook of his elbow. He gave her a small smile, which seemed to half‑frighten her, so he decided to just let them walk a spell to allow her to get accustomed to the idea. He was certainly the last man in the world who should comment on someone feeling or acting socially awkward.

Darcy had spent some time thinking about the middle Bennet daughter, and his thought always went towards both understanding Elizabeth through her sisters, as well as entertaining ideas about how he could help them. He thought it was a bit pointless for a man to be rich and powerful if he could not help his friends. The Bennets were, he hoped, to be at least friends and preferably much more than that, so a little forethought would not be amiss. As usual though, once he started thinking about that, he became unsure of himself.

Fortunately, in this particular case, he did not need to conjure up a long‑dead father or mother. His conversation with Anne the previous evening had been sufficient. He had mentioned his thoughts, and he wondered if Anne thought he was being overly presumptuous thinking about how to help the other Bennets, as if they were already sisters.

Anne's reply had been quick.

_≈ It is a bit late to worry about officious interference now, Fitzwilliam. Before the Bingley debacle would have been a good time to start, but since we are on the subject, let me be clear. If you treat them as sisters, then you are being presumptions, and frankly ridiculous. If you treat them as friends who have shared their home with you for a fortnight, then you are not wrong, so long as your interference amounts to nothing more than introductions, suggestions, help when requested or things you would do for any friend. ≈_

The distraction lasted only a moment, while Miss Mary was deciding if she wanted to ask the question again.

"Well, Mr. Darcy… you have been here a fortnight, ostensibly 'protecting' your cousin. Forgive my skepticism, but I doubt Anne requires any protection from you or anyone else. _You_ might, but _she_ does not. You have another purpose, and I wonder if you are planning to share it, or if I will just need to guess."

Darcy looked at her carefully, and said, "Those are good observations, Miss Mary. I presume if I share something in confidence, it will remain as such?"

Mary just snickered, and said, "Of course, it will", and then she looked a bit crestfallen, and added, "it is not as if anyone wants my secrets anyway."

Darcy felt quite small, but said, "Would you prefer I just tell you, or would you like to guess? I have some things I would ask as well, if you are of a mind to oblige me."

Mary looked at him and saw a level of sincerity in his face that she liked, so she accepted the challenge.

"I suppose the real purpose is fairly obvious – or it is to me at any rate. You are waiting for Lizzy to return. Either you want to court her, or you have already made a complete hash out of it and are here to try to repair the damage."

Darcy laughed with ill humor, and said, "That is very astute, Miss Mary. It is the latter and describing it as 'a real hash' understates the magnitude of the disaster by half. Can you tell me how you guessed?"

"Well, Sir, it is simple, really. You got off on the wrong foot with Lizzy right from the beginning by slighting her at the assembly. May I presume Jane or Anne have already taken you to task over that?"

"Yes, in fact they have, though I have relieved them of the burden by feeling inordinately ashamed and guilty on my own."

"Wasted emotions, Mr. Darcy. The purpose of those is to encourage you to better yourself or make amends. If you have done so, then it is time to let them go, although you still have to apologize to Lizzy for it, IF she will listen to you."

"Easier said than done, Miss Mary."

"Everything worthwhile is, Mr. Darcy, but Oakham Mount is only two miles so we should advance our discussion I think."

"Agreed."

"Well, Lizzy likes to think she is very clever, and I admit she is. She is quite the cleverest of all of us, but that gives her one big disadvantage. She does not fail often enough to take the possibility of failure of her intellect seriously enough. Those of us that make a muddle of it most of the time need to learn some humility. She likes her first impression, and since you hit her on a particularly sensitive subject, her course was set."

"I see. Why particularly sensitive?"

"Mr. Darcy, if you had my mother, and Jane for a sister you would understand."

Darcy looked at the ground, and said, "Perhaps I understand better than you might think, Miss Mary. I grew up with two other boys, Robert Breton and Mr. Wickham. My father was a very good man, and very astute in every area of his life _except_ Mr. Wickham. He never 'favored' Wickham per-se, but he did make it clear on any number of occasions that I should be more like him socially. He was a lively man and found me to be too sober and taciturn for his taste, so he spent quite a bit of time with Wickham. I am certain it is not as bad as what you suffer, but at least enough to give me the vague concept."

"Fair enough, Mr. Darcy. No imagine a life where your father told you explicitly, nearly every day, that you were not as good as him. Not as clever, not as handsome, whatever adjective you would find most troublesome. Then, imagine Lizzy as a peer, and the very first thing she did is slight exactly the same attribute your father slighted, and you will be getting close."

Darcy's face turned red, and he looked at the ground, before saying, "I understand much better, Miss Mary."

"Put the pieces together, and then throw a snake into the garden at the worst moment, and you will see the obstacle you were facing. You are aware I am certain, that wherever Lizzy is, Mr. Wickham's poisonous words have not been refuted, since you missed your chance to do that in the fall. She probably still believes him, unless she has managed to work it out for herself."

"Yes, I am aware of that, among my many failings. But may I ask a question? You worked out that I would like to court her. How?"

Mary just laughed, and said, "Lizzy is very clever… cleverer than I am by far, but she does have her blind spots. She frequently wondered why you stared at her and advanced the theory that you stared 'to find fault'."

"And"

Mary took a deep breath, and said, "As a woman with plenty of faults to find, Mr. Darcy, I can tell you that it takes a man _very little time_ to identify them. No staring is required."

Darcy gasped in surprise and stopped walking, which caused Mary to stop as well, though she was staring down in so much embarrassment that she might have tripped over the next pebble in the path anyway.

Darcy said very gently, "Miss Mary, I have shared your home and your table for a fortnight and have had ample time to study you at my leisure. It has not been sufficient to find any fault. Perhaps, you underestimate yourself, or perhaps your mother's poison has caused you to underestimate my sex in general."

Mary looked at him, and said, "Mr. Darcy, you say that _now_, and you do it with the voice of sincerity, although a practiced deceiver would do that while spouting empty flattery. I will give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you are sincere, but may I ask, _what did your evil twin that was here last Autumn think?_"

Darcy looked at his boots, blushing in shame, and said, "Anyone who listened to that idiot should have their head examined."

_"But what did he think?"_

Darcy blushed, and said, "He thought you beneath him, and not worth getting to know. Beyond that, he did not think about you at all. Much to his discredit, he dismissed you and all your sisters save one with a glance. That one he dismissed with a great deal of effort… or tried to anyway."

Mary smiled, not accustomed to such brutal honesty, but thinking she could well get used to it. It would make life so much easier and less confusing.

"Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Darcy. Your earlier doppelganger has more adherents to his way of thinking than you do."

Feeling quite out of his depth, Darcy said, "Perhaps, Miss Mary, but may I ask you this? How many husbands to you actually desire? Is it zero or one?"

"One of course. I may not be the most beautiful or accomplished or lively Bennet daughter, but I still want to _live_, just like any other woman."

"So, in the entire cohort of men, does it matter what percentage of them are worthy of your attention and which are not."

"Mr. Darcy, even Jane is unwed after seven years. I have no dowry, no connections, little in the way of accomplishments, and beauty that is marginal at best. Do you truly think I stand any chance at all?"

Wondering exactly what kind of hole he was digging, Darcy said, "Do you truly believe that the less‑evil version of myself will not help you?"

Mary stopped again and stared at him, as if the idea had never occurred to her.

Darcy pressed a bit, asking, "Put the matter help from me aside for the moment Miss Mary. Even _before_ my return, Jane spent four months in London at your Uncle's house. According to her reports, she just wasted her time pining away for Bingley. If she had been in the right mood, is it possibly your Uncle and Aunt Gardiner would introduce her to eligible men in that amount of time?"

"Yes, they have always offered to, but Mama does not want us marrying tradesmen. She thinks them beneath us."

"I see. Do you believe this?"

"Of course not. My aunt and uncle are the finest people I know, but none of us have become desperate enough to fight with Mama yet. We will eventually, but not yet."

Darcy nodded, and said, "We all fight our chains, Miss Mary. You fight your mother's influence and your father's indolence. I fight the big target on my back and my own addlepated ideas about my position in society. Bingley fights his indolence, his indecision, his pernicious sisters and his overreliance on my advice, which is far from infallible. I guess the question for all of us is whether we let the chains define us, or whether we break free of them."

"Have you broken free, Mr. Darcy?"

"I believe I have broken some of them, but not all. I am a better man now than I was a few months ago. I would not have even had this conversation back then. I would have been afraid to even walk with you. More importantly, I will be a better man a few months hence. You see, Miss Mary, I fully expect your sister to reject my first proposal. Nobody with a scrap of sense or pride, could accept it. My hope is that she will allow me to court her properly, and humbly, and show her that I am not the evil twin. It will be a chance for me to grow, to improve my character, and by the time I eventually wear her down, I hope to be worthy."

"Well, I wish you success, Mr. Darcy."

"Now, let us discuss _your_ chains, Miss Mary. I will be honest. I hope one day to be your brother, and your concerns would be my concerns, but I am not that yet, and may never be. I do however have an idea that you might like… friend to friend. I do hope I may call you that?"

Mary got quiet for several paces, rolling the idea around in her mind, and said, "Yes – friends, Mr. Darcy."

"Well then, Miss Mary. If you are not in a particular _hurry_ to meet eligible men, what say you to meeting a friend who is a bit less… er… less… well, I will not say it. I guess my question is, would you like to meet my sister? I believe you could both teach each other some things."

"You would introduce me to your sister?"

"Yes, of course. As you know by now, I am the laziest man you know, with the possible exception of your father. My sister is timid, shy, and astonishingly short of female influence her own age. That is my fault, but now that I have identified it as a fault, I plan to fix it the easiest way possible. If I just have you in my house for some months, then all would be resolved without my lifting a finger. Yes, I cannot imagine why I did not think of this before."

Mary just stared at him in perplexity, and said, "Your sister?"

"Yes. She is but sixteen. She is _very_ good at the pianoforte, and I have masters engaged that you could share. You have talent but need training. You have energy and application, but it needs direction. Socially, you and Georgiana are both a bit awkward, although far be it from me to criticize. Georgiana learned it from me, and you probably from your father. I would suggest you might form a tight bond something like your two elder sisters share if possible. Then after a few months, if you are not lively enough, I can just drop your other two sisters into the mix. Problem solved, and with so little trouble and expense. It is the perfect solution. Even better, Georgiana will come out in society next year. You will come out with her. Yes, it is all arranged. I shall write to my Aunt Matlock immediately to start the process moving."

"You are mad, Mr. Darcy!"

"In that, you are absolutely correct, Miss Mary. What say you? Will you come to Derbyshire for a few months?"

"Let us see if you are still mostly intact and willing to meet with anyone named 'Bennet' after you meet with Lizzy. Whether she objects to you or not, I will be happy to meet your sister. I am afraid you cannot command us to befriend each other. We will have to work that out ourselves, but I will try."

"That is all I ask, Miss Mary."

Mary nodded, and asked casually, "By the way, do you have any idea where Lizzy is?"

"'North' is all I have heard. For all I know, she could in the blue parlor at Pemberley, talking about me at this very moment."


	28. Blue Parlor

_A/N: All right, all right, all right – if you insist. I need to make the text clearer in the last chapter. Darcy has been at Longbourn for a fortnight when he has the conversation with Mary (very popular chapter), so that means Elizabeth is…_

* * *

Elizabeth dropped into the sofa in the blue parlor in exhaustion, and sighed in either satisfaction, exhaustion or more likely both. Four days of nonstop madness at Pemberley had left her fatigued but exhilarated. She had spent a lot of time thinking about Mr. Darcy, but only in between bouts of mad activity. Georgiana had come up with the term _Triumvirate_ to describe their merry little band that made up what Elizabeth called _one good sort of mistress. _She had no idea why Lord and Lady Matlock had not appeared the next day, but the last time she had checked, Pemberley was still standing, so she could claim temporary victory.

The five days after the villagers had appeared were full of bustle, noise, confusion and activity. It turned out that if you stuffed a few dozen traumatized villagers into a ballroom, you got all kinds of both wonderful and atrociously bad behavior. It was almost as bad as if you stuck a few dozen gentry into the same room and told them to dance. There was all the one-upmanship and backstabbing you would see in a ball. There was all the fighting for territory or attention. There were the kindly and energetic people that made the whole thing work. There were the rough equivalents of everything from the vast majority who acted properly, to the strutting peacocks, to the drunkards, to the men who really _should_ dance but did not want to. Of course, Elizabeth had never seen fisticuffs in a ball, but was assured they happened with some regularity in London. Georgiana had been horrified the first time Elizabeth broke up a scuffle between two boys of middling teen years by picking up a nearby blanket and throwing it over them, so Elizabeth decided to keep her out of the ballroom for another week. The vast majority of the villagers were everything you could ever wish in a visitor, but a few hotheads could spoil the atmosphere if you did not check them. Most of the time, the more sensible visitors too care of it, but they could not be everywhere at once. Thus far, she had not expelled anyone to the stables, but there were a few people an inch from the edge.

Each day, Elizabeth started with the same bath, and yet another new borrowed old dress. On the third day she asked if they were too busy to do laundry and got an evil eye from Stewart for her impertinence. On the fourth day, she suggested she just wear the dress from the second day, and got a rap on the knuckles, though it was done affectionately. On the fourth day, she just accepted the fact that she had god-like powers everywhere in the estate _except_ her own dressing room. Margaret had abandoned her the very first night in favor of Georgiana's room, and Elizabeth was neutral about it.

Now, after five days of chaos, Elizabeth was rather proud that nothing bad had happened for several hours, no major decisions needed to be made, nobody was angry with the world at large and Elizabeth Bennet in particular. She thought to just sit down for an hour with some tea and biscuits.

The morning of bright sunshine right after she arrived lasted only half a day, and the villagers spend the rest of the time trying to get by in torrential rain. Many of the men went back to the village to try to get a start on rebuilding. Mr. Breton and Mr. Wythe went along with most of the outside staff, but they mainly found there was not a lot to be done. They managed some repairs on the parts of the village that had _not_ burned, but it was essentially impossible to do anything other than measure or plan on the burnt part. She also assumed the torrential rains probably slowed her express riders to a crawl, and she hoped neither of them became injured or ill, though there was nothing she could do about that except show some patience.

One of the measles patients died on the second day, while three more maids and two footmen became sick. One of the older men brought in on the first coach likewise died, but everyone else in the family wing seemed to be recovering nicely. She had the apothecaries from both Lambton and Kympton visiting Pemberley regularly, and also arranged to pay them to visit Sudbury nearly every day.

Elizabeth had, quite boldly she thought, engaged blacksmiths, builders and a few tradesmen from the nearby villages, and some laborers from Pemberley's tenants, promising them payment from Pemberley's coffers. She had nearly panicked about the expense at first, until Georgiana dragged her into an anteroom and insisted that so far, Elizabeth had not even made a significant dent in Georgiana's pin money, so she needed to quite being so timid.

All in all, things were about as well as could be expected. Elizabeth was tired and disheveled, although she would not dare let anyone else see, lest Stewart appear inadequate in her duties. With that in mind, she made Georgiana handle the pouring of tea and the like. All she wanted was a few minutes relaxation, and perhaps a chance to go to bed before midnight, which all things considered, had about even odds.

She vaguely heard the door open behind her, and was somewhat startled by a strong announcement.

_"Lady Matlock"_

The introduction of Lady Matlock shook her out of her lethargy and brought about some new energy. She wondered when the traditional functions of the butler had been replaced by somebody else since the butler was still recovering in the guest wing, but since odds were that she herself had ordered the change and just forgotten, she did not worry overly much.

Elizabeth jumped up from the sofa, nearly spilling her tea, faced the door and hoped the lady would go easy on her.

A deep curtsy and bow of her head, accompanied her greeting, "Lady Matlock, what a pleasure to see you again."

Georgiana seemed a bit surprised by the greeting, since Elizabeth had never mentioned the visit to Matlock, but she forgot that in a moment and ran over to give her aunt a big hug. Elizabeth was not surprised by either the affection or the informality.

Lady Matlock squeezed her niece hard for a moment, almost as if she wanted to be certain she was in one piece, stepped back, grabbed her about the shoulders and gave her a good looking over. Elizabeth presumed she passed muster, as Lady Matlock stepped aside, and gave her reply, which was more by position in the circle than precedence, as if anyone could work out precedence in a situation like this.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Wythe, Mr. Wythe, Mrs. Wythe – what an absolute pleasure to see you all again."

She then gave her niece another squeeze, walked over to Elizabeth, and said, "Well met, Miss Bennet. Very well met, indeed. I told you we would meet again."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "I imagine you did, my lady."

She was then completely surprised when Lady Matlock walked up to her, wrapped her in a very tight embrace, and whispered in her ear, "I am so very happy to see you, my dear."

Elizabeth would have been completely shocked, but four days of Pemberley madness, and a lifetime of Bennet lunacy had left her fairly resilient, so she just whispered back, "Probably not as happy as I am to see you."

"We shall see, Miss Bennet. May I call you Elizabeth?"

"Of course."

Lady Matlock stepped back, then walked over to Margaret who was looking a bit uncertain how to act. Lady Matlock gave Mrs. Wythe a wink, and then hugged Margaret much as she had Elizabeth. The Wythes were no more bothered by a countess hugging their daughter than they were by anything else. They thought the lady could very well make her own rules of decorum, so long as it was affectionate.

Elizabeth noticed Robert Breton had come in with the countess but stood quietly off to the side.

"Mr. Breton, well met, Sir! Will you join us for tea?"

She wondered if Lady Matlock would object, but the question was answered immediately.

_"Come, Robert," said she, "I must have you sit. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better sit and have some tea."_

Quite to Elizabeth's surprise, Mr. Breton laughed uproariously, came over, gave the countess a kiss on the cheek and sat down. Elizabeth wondered if _anybody_ in this family followed the usual rules of propriety.

Smiling hugely, Lady Matlock said, "Do not panic, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth just nodded dumbly.

"I assume you are wondering if I even read the deportment manuals. We normally operate with the generally accepted rules of formality, at least when visitors are about, but after this week, I feel like you are family. Did you know that when young Robert here took his very first steps, it was toward me? I was visiting Pemberley, and he was outside with his mother. I have been teasing him about the fall he took ever since."

Shaking her head in confusion, Elizabeth saw Mr. Breton smile and say, "It was all your fault, my lady."

She just laughed as if they had been doing the same joke since he learned to talk.

The tea had gone cold, so Georgiana stacked the teacups aside, got new ones and poured again. For a few minutes, Elizabeth just sat back and watched the three who knew each other so well converse about the commonplaces. Lady Matlock did not drag her into the conversation, but Elizabeth suspected the lady was just allowing her a bit of respite.

Finally, after the polite talk had been exhausted and everyone finished their tea, Elizabeth decided to turn the conversation in the proper direction.

"Lady Matlock, I am so happy to see you here. I will be ever so happy to turn the management over to a proper mistress."

Georgiana and Margaret nodded eagerly, smiling hugely. They were both more exhausted and overwhelmed than Elizabeth was, not because they did more work, but because they were not accustomed to it.

Lady Matlock looked at her and said, "Why on Earth would I do that? Pemberley already has a 'proper mistress'."

Elizabeth just stared at her and had not the vaguest idea of what to say.

Lady Matlock sat forward in her sofa, reached over and took Elizabeth's hands, and said, "You need not worry about censure, Elizabeth. You have done well, very-very well indeed. There can be no too opinions on the subject."

Elizabeth just sputtered, "But… but… but…", and finally just gave up when she worked out that she had nothing but grunts to contribute.

Lady Matlock raised her voice, and said, "Robert, tell me what I should change in the management of the estate."

"Just stay out of Miss Bennet's way, my lady. Everything is being done just as it should."

Elizabeth continued to sputter, "But… but… but… I AM NOT QUALIFIED!"

Lady Matlock just patted her hands, and asked, "Be honest, Elizabeth. Do you hate the job? Would you like to go home? I assure you, I trust Robert implicitly. If he says we have the right mistress, I would stake my life on it, and so would Darcy."

Elizabeth shook her head a few more times, but Lady Matlock was implacable.

"Think about it, Miss Bennet. This estate is in no particular danger, but quite a lot of churn, consternation and confusion. Those villagers are traumatized and worried. Everyone in the house already trusts you. Everyone already knows you understand all that is happening. What would be improved by having _me_ take the reins that _you_ are already handling so well. If you have no objection, I would ask you to stay in the same capacity for a few more days until things settle a bit."

Elizabeth stared at the countess and decided this was one of the times where her courage must rise to the occasion. Of course, on a rational basis, all that meant was that she would go back to what she had been doing twenty minutes before.

"You will stay and at least help me, I hope?"

"Of course, but we need to make it clear that, how did my niece put it, your word is law."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "You may have noticed that your niece is prone to fits of hyperbole."

"Yes, I have, but this time she is right."


	29. Two Sisters

The next half-hour was spent in pleasant but mostly forgettable conversation. Georgiana and Margaret took it upon themselves to tell the story of the past few days, while Lizzy tried her best to keep them from exaggerating the tale too egregiously. She even occasionally succeeded, but it was not her most successful endeavor.

During the discussion, various footmen and maids came in to ask Elizabeth for guidance or brought notes for her. Most of those were of a minor nature, so she simply gave the orders for resolution and turned back to the conversation.

Naturally, it turned soon to discussions of Mr. Darcy. Everyone in the circle except Mr. Breton seemed aware that Elizabeth was somewhat brittle about the subject, and they tried their best to avoid any confluence of matrimony or even relationships, with Mr. Darcy in the same speech. However, Breton was either unaware, or more likely just felt like poking the bear. He quit innocently turned to Lady Matlock and said.

"Aunt, do you remember I have been saving money so I can afford a wife."

"Yes, I do. Harebrained scheme if I ever heard one. Darcy has been begging you to take an increase in salary for years. You should already be married."

"Well, perhaps we are having a stubbornness contest. At the moment, I am in the lead."

"We shall see, Robert."

"On this subject, I am victorious. I finally saved the amount I wanted, and can you imagine what happened next?"

Lady Matlock laughed, and said, "All right, Robert. I shall take the bait."

"Well, I asked Darcy to keep an eye out for a suitable bride, and he found one _within four hours_! It is the most astounding thing I have ever heard of in my life."

Elizabeth gasped, and with her tongue running ahead of her head gasped in shock, _"You would take romantic advice from Mr. Darcy… Mr. Darcy!_"

Everyone else stared at her, wondering exactly what her qualms on the subject might entail. The Wythes knew of course, but they thought it was Elizabeth's tale to tell.

Breton looked at her carefully, wondering what was happening, and continued.

"Yes, Miss Bennet, I would. He has a knack for it. I probably should not spread such tales, but he has introduced a half ‑dozen couples that I know of… all of them still quite happy. He only does it among the working class though. Entanglements in the gentry are too complicated for him."

Elizabeth snorted, but everyone pretended to ignore her.

Breton continued, "He has also occasionally suggested to a couple that they _think_ about it seriously, and they sometimes demur. Sometimes they end up together anyway, and sometimes they do not, but most of the time, they are eventually happy they took a moment to think things through. He will never do anything besides an introduction or a suggestion that a couple take a bit of time, though. Perhaps he might venture a _slightly_ stronger opinion for someone he knows well, but I do not think it likely."

Elizabeth just stared at him in consternation, and said, "I know for a fact that he gets it wrong occasionally, Mr. Breton."

Everyone just stared at her in astonishment, and Lady Matlock leaned ahead and asked her, "Do you care to elaborate, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth just shook her head, and said, "No, I will not. I am however curious, Mr. Breton, how he separates couples. What arts and allurements does he use?"

Breton scratched his head, and said, "He has told me every time he does it, and all he does is suggest if a man is coming close to creating expectations, that he should be sure of what he is about before proceeding. It is unfair and even cruel to raise expectations that will not be fulfilled."

Lady Matlock was finding the whole subject fascinating, so she leaned forward and asked, "When was the last time he did that, Robert?"

"Last winter, around the start of December, with a man named Bingley."

Elizabeth asked, "And that is all he would say. He would not take credit for breaking the union."

Breton looked shocked, and said, "Never! He would champion caution, but no more. If such a story is floating about, I cannot account for it, unless he felt particularly strongly about a specific couple."

Lady Matlock sighed, and said, "I probably can."

Elizabeth looked at her carefully, as the lady replied, "You know my son, Richard. He is a good man, and a good friend, but he tends to exaggerate. Might I suggest you may have heard the story from him? You had a reaction to seeing his bust at my home."

Elizabeth sighed, and said, "Yes, you have caught me out, Lady Matlock. The intelligence was from the Colonel."

Breton leaned forward, and said, "You need to take anything he says and cut it in half, Miss Bennet. He never outright lies, but he does like a good story if he sees no harm in it."

Elizabeth said, "There _was_ harm in the story, but it was minor, I suppose. I will ask you this just once, Mr. Breton. _Would Mr. Darcy actively try to separate a couple form each other for any reason other than lack of affection?_"

"Absolutely not. He detests match‑making and match‑breaking. He also is seriously concerned about ladies' reputations, as you would expect with a young ward. When men are making expectations that are not serious, he becomes quite displeased. Ladies' reputations are fragile, and he _hates_ to see them damaged. He is also, understandably concerned with fortune hunters, but claims no particular skill at rooting them out. If he thought a friend was vulnerable to one, he would suggest caution but nothing more."

Elizabeth sat in thought for a moment, wondering if it was possible. Could the Colonel's tendency to exaggerate, coupled with Mr. Bingley's inconstancy, leave Mr. Darcy mostly faultless in Jane's heartbreak, especially when he was apparently being as careful as he possibly could to be certain _Elizabeth herself_ did not have unrealistic expectations? It was a proven fact that Mrs. Bennet _was_ mercenary, so if he urged caution to Bingley, and _that man_ took it upon himself to trust his sister to take leave, was that Mr. Darcy's fault? Those questions were likely to plague her for some time, but she wanted to get the conversation onto another topic.

"I will take you at your word, Mr. Breton. Please continue your story."

Everyone else at the table stared at her, and she repeated, "I am finished with this topic! Perhaps I should find something productive to do."

Quite to her surprise, Mr. Breton left his chair and sat down on a footstool in front of her, where he could see her eye to eye, and asked, "Have I hurt you in some way, Miss Bennet? If so, please allow me to correct it if I may."

Somewhat confused, Elizabeth said, "On the contrary, Mr. Breton. I believe you may have solved a bit of a mystery for me, but I will need some time to myself to work it through."

"How can I reduce your discomfort, ma'am. I feel like the apothecary who has given you a foul-tasting concoction, rooting around hopelessly in my bag for a candy to make it taste better."

Elizabeth laughed quite loudly at that, and said, "Tell me about your wife, Mr. Breton."

Laughing, he jumped up and returned to his original, more decorous seat, and said, "She is not my wife. She is simply a woman who sounds _very_ interesting."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "But you said Mr. Darcy is never wrong when he predicts successful romance. Lady Matlock, can you give Mr. Breton two pounds. I am certain he will need to buy a common license the very same day he meets Mr. Darcy's chosen bride."

Everyone laughed uproariously at that, and Elizabeth said, "Pray continue, Mr. Breton."

Breton laughed along with everyone else, and said, "Well, it all came about rather oddly. Darcy got dragged off to a ball one night about six weeks ago."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Was he bribed or blackmailed."

Georgiana laughed, and said, "You seem to know my brother better than you have asserted, Lizzy."

Elizabeth just smiled and nodded at Breton to continue.

"Well, at that point it gets confusing. Darcy never writes real names of ladies in his letters to me. He is afraid for their reputations if the letter goes astray, and he knows I will never know the ladies anyway so their names would be pointless. At any rate, there were _two_ sisters who he apparently got on the bad side of somehow. It is of course, not all that surprising, since we _are_ talking about Darcy, whose social ineptness is legendary. The elder of the two was at this ball and scheduled to dance with one of Darcy's friends. Said friend sprained his ankle and asked the lady if he could offer a substitute."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Was he honoring this lady or punishing her?"

Georgiana laughed, and said, "William is an awful dancer, or at least he must be because he never‑ever dances with a lady unless he is required to by politeness."

Elizabeth, sighed, and sad, "Your supposition is incorrect, Georgie. Your brother is an extremely good dancer, even if the lady he is dancing with is on the vicious side."

Everyone stared at her, begging her to continue, and she said, "That is all I have to say. Mr. Breton, do you plan to finish your story before supper?"

Everyone laughed, and Breton continued.

"Well, this elder of the two sisters seemed to be frightfully angry with him. It was all a muddle, because the substitution was enacted, but as soon as the elder sister saw him, she turned around without a word, practically ran from the ballroom, got in a hack and went home. She did not say a single word or look back even once."

Elizabeth gasped at the insinuation but did not want to say anything.

Breton continued, "Well, Darcy wanted _badly_ to apologize to this lady for whatever offense he may have committed, so he went to her uncle's house, somewhere in London the next day. It turned out the lady decided to return to her father's house early that very morning. Darcy still wanted to make things right, so he rode there. I spoke to him just before he left to find her, and I left for Pemberley."

Elizabeth said, "I see. He had offended the lady, so naturally he decided to chase her halfway across England when she did not want to talk to him?"

"Apparently. Darcy is nothing if not stubborn."

Elizabeth sighed, and said, "Please continue, Sir."

"On the way, he found the uncle's coach with a broken axle, and set about… well, how did he put it… groveling like a worm was the plan, and I believe he executed it. In the process, he met the woman he wants to introduce me to. She was a maid of all work, and injured slightly in the accident, but she stood up to him like a giant. She was apparently not intimidated by his high-and-mightiness at all. Apparently, she even taught him something about being a proper man, but I must confess, the paragraphs about that interaction were a bit muddled. There was something about his mother and some horsewomen, but I could not make any sense out of it."

Breton gave a chuckle, and everyone around joined in, except Elizabeth who just sat there staring.

"Go on!"

"Well, he made his apologies, apparently at length and in detail, and the sister apparently forgave him entirely. She even thanked him in the end. It appears that she decided she wanted a fully‑grown man instead of a wet behind the ears pup like Bingley, who could be swayed by a few words of caution and that polecat of a sister of his…"

Breton blushed, and said, "Pardon me… my language."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Which language was that, Mr. Breton. I have no idea what a polecat is, but if it is a nasty creature, then it was an apt analogy."

Everyone chuckled, and Breton continued.

"Well, apparently the elder sister was by then thick as thieves with Darcy's cousin Anne de Bourgh, so all is well. They will be doing the season together. The maid has been promoted to a lady's maid for Miss de Bourgh, and Darcy is trying to figure out where the first sister is, so he can try to make things right with her as well."

Elizabeth gasped in surprise, though why she should be surprised that Fortuna was playing with her life was quite beyond her at that point.

Not quite hearing her gasp, Breton continued, "Last I heard from him, he was staying with the elder sister's family, along with his cousin Anne, somewhere in Hertfordshire. Apparently, the worm maneuver was successful. I believe you know Miss de Bourgh, Miss Bennet. Darcy will bring my potential bride, Mary Taylor, next time he comes to Pemberley."

Elizabeth thought that it was now fully confirmed. Apparently, the world had gone utterly and completely mad. If Mr. Breton's information was correct, Fitzwilliam Darcy was now sleeping in the guest room most recently occupied by Mr. Collins, which was apparently reserved for gentlemen whose proposals she rejected; while she was sleeping in a chamber somewhere in the family wing of Pemberley. It could not be any odder.

Somewhat timidly, she asked, "The first sister, Mr. Breton… the younger. What offense was he trying to make up for?"

Breton looked at her, shook his head, and replied, "He would not say it explicitly, Miss Bennet. He just said he had dug himself a hole the size of Pemberley and hoped he could eventually dig himself out. I have to say, he sounded determined, but not very optimistic for a speedy resolution. He anticipated months or years of work."

Lady Matlock leaned forward curiously, and said, "You never told me how you know Darcy, Elizabeth. Is it possible you know these sisters? Perhaps we can help my nephew together. He trusts you implicitly, so I am surprised he is not here asking for your help."

Starting to shake, Elizabeth whispered, _"He does not know I am here. He does not have the vaguest idea where I am right now."_

She glanced over at the Wythes, all of whom were studiously NOT giving any clues to their thoughts, nor adding anything to the conversation without her permission.

Everyone in the room was staring at Elizabeth, and she found herself more nervous than she had been when Georgiana appointed her as temporary Mistress of Pemberley… more nervous by a wide margin.

Everyone seemed to be patiently waiting for her to say something. Why wouldn't they – she was the Mistress.

Finally, Elizabeth took a deep breath, blew it out and spoke.

"I imagine you have all probably worked it out by now. _I am the First Sister._ He is apparently now sleeping down the hall from _my_ room at _my_ father's estate in Hertfordshire, and Anne de Bourgh is sleeping in _my_ bed. I can explain that hole you described, Mr. Breton, if you are curious."

"Pins and needles, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth blew out a big breath and tried to see if she could get through it neither tears nor rage, which seemed unlikely.

"Mr. Darcy _proposed_ to me in Hunsford six weeks ago. At the time, I quite despised him in general, for various reasons, not all of which turned out to be true. He made a truly dreadfully awful proposal! It was my second truly dreadfully awful proposal in five months. He apparently learned at Eaton or Cambridge that the fashion was to insult and disparage your intended to show your steadiness. He did this just _three hours_ after your son, Lady Matlock, boasted, quite arrogantly I might add, that Mr. Darcy _separated_ Mr. Bingley from a fortune hunter, and claimed it as… what did he call it… '_the honour of my cousin's triumph'_."

Everyone gasped, so she continued, "Said fortune hunter was, as you have no doubt surmised, the elder sister, my sister, Jane."

Everyone except the Wythes gasped again.

Elizabeth continued woodenly.

"My mother tried to _force_ me to accept the first god-awful proposal. The man was my father's heir, but the most ridiculous man alive…, well, maybe second most at any rate."

She paused, feeling tears at the corner of her eyes before continuing.

"Only my father's support saved me, and his ability to withstand an assault from Mr. Darcy is suspect at best. I… I… Well… I panicked! I ran from the room without a single word, went to Hunsford Village and took the first coach that left with nothing but the clothes on my back. I have been running ever since. I was running from him, running from myself, running from my mercenary mother, running from the calendar, running from everything. I turn one and twenty in three days, and I will not be forced into anything by anybody."

Nobody said anything for the longest time, as everyone pieced the story together, with growing feelings of horror and confusion.

Finally, Georgiana screwed up her courage, and tried to crack the silence.

"If you are hiding from my brother Lizzy, you might not have picked the best place to do it", and the room exploded with tension relieving laughter for a moment.

Lady Matlock moved over and sat down beside Elizabeth, reached her arm around the younger lady's shoulders, and pulled her into an embrace. She noticed the young lady was shaking, and very close to tears, but reckoned it might just as likely be confusion or rage.

"You have been through a difficult time, Elizabeth. That is quite a story."

Mr. Wythe spoke up, and said, "She told us about a week ago, Lady Matlock. She has been trying to understand your nephew for some time."

Elizabeth, feeling some comfort from the sympathy of the elder woman. She felt at the moment as if she might be the luckiest woman in the world. She had demonstrated her competence by acting as mistress of an estate she had never stepped foot in, but she had also demonstrated that she was just plain lucky. Entirely by chance she had found the Wythes, Lady Matlock and Mr. Breton. She might even be willing to help Mr. Darcy fill in that hole he seemed to be in, as his sins did not seem so awfully terrible at the moment.

With a deep sigh, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, until Mr. Breton handed her a handkerchief.

Sitting back up, she said, "Thank you… thank you all of you."

Everyone smiled, nodded, and demurred any need for thanks.

Feeling quite bold, and still in Lady Matlock's embrace, she reached up to kiss the lady on the cheek, then sat up straight and spoke.

"So! Lady Matlock, Georgiana, Mr. Breton – please tell me about Mr. Darcy."


	30. Assembly Hall

_A/N: Things starting to come together. The end is nigh! Wade_

* * *

"Brother, have you received your dancing orders for the evening."

Darcy startled a bit at the oddly phrased question, but nearly a month in the Bennet household had left him more resilient to statements made purely for effect, so he answered calmly.

"I would hope you are not being overly presumptuous, Miss Kitty. I am _not_ your brother and may well never be, though I dearly hope it may come to pass. I would hope nobody outside of this household knows of your supposition?"

He was happy to see Catherine Bennet was capable of chagrin, although her downcast expression did not last long.

Darcy added, "Out of curiosity, which of your sisters told you?"

"Oh, none of them… secret to the grave and all that. I worked out the thought on my own, and needled Lydia until she came clean. Do not fret though, the ideas is still quite foreign to Mama, and nobody outside this house knows, nor will they ever. We have enough sense of self‑preservation to protect Lizzy's reputation."

Darcy chuckled, and said, "I see you are aware that your sister's reputation affects your own. I am happy to see it."

Kitty just laughed, and said, "No, not that kind of self‑preservation… I mean keeping ourselves free of Lizzy's foul temper. I assume you are acquainted with it? I am curious. Just how bad was the setdown she delivered? You still seem to be able to walk straight, and still have most of your teeth, so maybe she went easy on you."

Darcy grimaced, and said, "She walked out without a single word, got in a post coach and left the county."

Kitty laughed and said, "Lucky you! If she had spoken, you would have no chance at redemption at all. You would be a broken man, wandering the country completely lost, hoping you might just find her randomly wandering around Pemberley one day."

Darcy laughed, "Yes, perhaps she would tour it on holiday at the exact moment I arrived."

"Yes, yes, yes. She would stay in Lambton and… well, this is all quite ridiculous, is it not?"

Darcy laughed along with her, and said, "Yes, Miss Kitty. You may be right about her mode of communication. I might not have _much_ chance of redemption, but a little is better than none and I will take what I can get."

"Ah, so you are a man who gives up after one setback?"

Darcy chuckled, realizing that teasing was a congenital habit, probably passed down from the patriarch.

Smiling, he asked, "So, what are these orders?"

"Oh, that! Yes, well, we need to keep the gossip down to a manageable level. So far, the neighborhood believes you are here to 'protect' Anne, so you need to act accordingly. As our guests, you will need to dance with all of us just to be polite. Open with Anne, then just take us in birth order, mixing in one or two married ladies for color, and none will be the wiser."

Darcy chuckled, "I see… and you are telling me this because?"

Kitty laughed, and said, "Short straw, brother. Be ready on time. My mother detests tardiness."

* * *

Fitzwilliam Darcy, for perhaps the very first time in his life, arrived at an assembly at the _exact_ right time, all due to Mrs. Bennet who managed her daughters like a General preparing for battle. When he attended assemblies with Bingley or Fitzwilliam, they always dragged him there too early, so they might have the first chance to be introduced to the ladies. When he went by himself, he assiduously avoided the first set, and in fact procrastinated until the very last minute. He usually calculated the 'last minute' as the very last moment he could appear without giving offense, and the last minute before he would convince himself it was better to not attend at all. With Mrs. Bennet in charge, they arrived neither too early nor too late.

Over the previous month, he had reacquainted himself with all the principle families in the neighborhood, and spent some time mending fences. He had even visited the Netherfield tenants with Jane and Anne, while making significant purchases from all the local merchants. He thought it could not be amiss to reduce the number of people in the Meryton neighborhood who disliked him down to only one.

He was completely unsurprised to arrive at the Netherfield tenant cottages and find that the tenants all knew Jane well and welcomed her with open arms.

Anne found the whole experience instructional, and Darcy was happy to know that part of Anne's education would not fall to his lot. Anne was actually the heir to Rosings, and when she turned five and twenty in a few months, she would have to decide if she would fight her mother for her inheritance or let Lady Catherine play out her last few years. It was a difficult decision that Darcy would help her with but would not make for her. Either way, she needed to be ready to assume the role of mistress, and her mother had _not_ lifted a finger to prepare her.

Darcy had to assume Elizabeth was well familiar with all the duties of the mistress of an estate, but just to be sure, he asked Jane. She just laughed, and said, "Of course, Silly! "

He found spending time with Miss Jane Bennet to be delightful, as did all the tenants, and he once again kicked himself for his interference in Bingley's affairs. The debacle with Bingley had been his most egregious interference in his life, the very first time he had ventured an opinion about a lady's affection, or lack thereof. He knew she wholeheartedly forgave him, as if she was capable of anything else, and even thanked him; but he still did not think that made it right.

Of course, in the dark recesses of his mind, what little pride remained, asserted that even as abominable as his interference had been, _he had been right all along. _Jane may well have married Bingley and been happy, but Darcy still did not believe it. He could think the thought, but would never say the words, that the more formidable Jane Bingley would have emerged at the first crisis. _That woman_ would have become bored and disenchanted with his overly amiable friend within a few years at best, so it all worked out in the end.

Now, walking in to the assembly hall with Anne and Jane on his arm, he saw the appreciative looks, greeted all the inhabitants correctly, and wondered what in the world he had made all the fuss about. For the very first time, he _understood_ what his cousin and Bingley had been trying to teach him for years. Assemblies were supposed to be _fun._

* * *

"Jane, I believe this is our set."

"Yes, Fitzwilliam, it is. Shall we be about it. Who knows, perhaps this will be your last assembly as a single man."

Darcy chuckled, and thought he probably should remove Jane from Anne's pernicious teasing influence before it was too late, but then decided, it had been too late for quite some time. Jane had told her she found Anne's ability to tease not that impressive after a lifetime with her sister, and that Darcy had better toughen up. He had to admit, he had seen traces of it, but Miss Elizabeth had kept a pretty tight rein on her impertinence in his presence. He hoped to one day see it unleashed. He even hoped to be exposed to her fiery temper one day, as making up should be worth the cost.

The opening had been a quadrille, with Darcy paired with Anne, and Jane paired up with the eldest Lucas son. Jane liked the young man, but asserted the relationship was more fraternal than romantic, and would remain that way. Jane had introduced Mr. Lucas to Anne, who found him delightful but not particularly exciting. He was to be good fun for a dance, but unlikely to be any more. Of course, rumors of Anne's status had preceded her, so nobody in the entire county harbored any unrealistic hopes.

Mrs. Bennet was just happy to have two guests who increased her consequence, and to be honest, gave her much more fodder for gossip, but who were not in direct competition with her girls. She still had five unmarried ladies in the house, or well, four in the house and one entirely missing, much to her consternation.

Darcy finished his dance with Jane, and there was a bit of a break between sets, so he went off to give Mr. Bennet a chance to make sport of him, after leaving Jane with Anne and obtaining some punch for them.

* * *

"Jane, who is that man over there. He is fearful handsome!"

Jane looked at where Anne was pointing with her fan and laughed.

"Anne, do not tell me I will lose you at your first country assembly. You Fitzwilliam's seem to go mad in this hall."

Anne laughed along with her, and said, "Yes, I can see that. Did you see it, and if so, do you _believe_ it. Fitzwilliam Darcy is _having fun_. The world has run amok, and this hall seems to be the center of the disturbance."

Jane giggled, and said, "Well, I will introduce you, but you will not abandon me before our season. You can come back for him at your leisure… although…"

Anne looked at her best friend, who was scrunching her forehead in concentration.

"You are beginning to worry me, Jane."

Jane laughed, and said, "Well, Anne… Here is my thinking. That 'fearful handsome' man, and by the way, I need to remove you from Lydia's pernicious influence while you still have _some_ grasp of the English language."

Anne just laughed, and said, "Stop prevaricating!"

Jane said, "Well, he is a third son, but he is resisting his father's pressure to enter one of the 'acceptable' professions. He told me he has an aversion to bullets, regardless of whether they are incoming or outgoing, which shows him to be somewhat sensible. He finds the idea of the Navy, with months at sea thoroughly untenable. And he thinks he could spend days compiling a list of the most tedious professions in the world, and clergyman would top the list."

"Oh, my!"

"And he is the most frighteningly intelligent young man I have ever met. Papa is afraid of him, and even Lizzy approaches debates with him with caution."

"I see. What does he _do_ while not making all the intellectuals in the county quake in fear?"

"Well, that is the odd thing. His elder brother will obviously inherit, but he made a bargain with his father and brother. He works at the estate, purely in the capacity of increasing its income. Each year that the income improves with his new designs, he gets to keep the difference for three years. He cannot win at that game forever, but at the moment, he is doing marginally well for himself."

Anne still thought he looked fearful handsome.

Leaning over, Jane whispered, _"He would make a very fine estate master, with the right wife."_

Anne's smile lit up her face, and Jane thought she was uncommonly pretty with the expression. Jane thought she could boast to having done a good service for two people, but she would kill Anne if she did not at least get her _started_ on a London season.

On the other hand, Jane doubted that she would lack for London connections when Lizzy resurfaced. Even Lizzy's stubbornness had limits. She took Anne's arm, led her over to the gentleman, and performed an introduction worthy of Fordyce himself.

"Miss Anne de Bourgh, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Jason Goulding, a lowly third son without much to recommend him, but smart enough on a good day. Jason, Miss Anne de Bourgh. Anne, Jason is as I described a few minutes ago. Jason, Anne is heir to the Rosings estate in Kent, which is about a third the size of Longbourn's doghouse."

Jane then smiled hugely, moved one step to the side, and added as she walked away.

"You can put your eyes back into your head and ask Anne to dance now, Jason… Goodbye!"

* * *

"Did you misplace her, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy looked at the lady who had spoken to him but did not recognize her. He assumed she had been introduced to his evil twin but was struggling to recall her name.

"Be at ease, Mr. Darcy. We have not been introduced, but you seem to have abandoned the propriety manual altogether, so I imagine you are more resilient than you were last Autumn."

Darcy decided that impertinent women were just to be his lot in life and was not necessarily opposed to the plan.

"Shall I make up an arbitrary name, Miss… or perhaps I can limp along with ma'am or madam?"

The lady smiled a brilliant smile, curtsied, and said, "Rebecca Goulding, Sir. I think your friend Jane just attached my brother to your cousin, and right under Mrs. Bennet's nose."

Darcy said, "Do you approve of the operation, Miss Goulding?"

"Of course! Jason needs leg shackling before he floats away. I overheard the introduction. What did you do to my Jane? She is hilarious."

Darcy scrunched his face in concentration, and said, "We both helped each other come out of our shells, but…"

Rebecca said, "… do not finish that sentence, Mr. Darcy. I have worked out your entire scheme. My brother is not the only intelligent person in my family."

Darcy looked in concern, and she added, "He is also not the only one who knows how to keep his mouth shut. Have no fear, Sir."

Darcy nodded, and said, "I appreciate it, Miss Goulding. Can I do anything for you?"

"Perhaps eventually, Mr. Darcy, but tonight my agenda is to help you. I presume your presence and Lizzy's absence are related?"

Darcy's eyebrows rose in surprise, and she continued.

"Do not worry. I doubt anyone else will work it out or start any gossip, but I wish to shore up your plan. You are only dancing with your cousin and Bennets. It would be better if you dance with someone else who is at least theoretically eligible. Then, a certain amount of the gossips will focus on a possible connection with that lady, even though it is only one dance and we both know what it means."

Darcy asked, "Are there any _other_ genius woman in Hertfordshire?"

Rebecca laughed, and said, "I do not know, sir, I can only speak for myself."

Darcy chuckled, and said, "I can applaud your cover Miss Goulding. I believe you have done me a service, and I will remember it."

"You owe me nothing, Mr. Darcy. I just enjoyed the exercise."

Darcy nodded, and said, "Well, Miss Goulding. There is a quite eligible woman standing in front of me. Perhaps, she could be convinced to serve as the decoy?"

Rebecca laughed, and said, "It will be my pleasure, Mr. Darcy. Tell Lizzy she owes me a letter."


	31. Some Explaining

Darcy was getting punch for Jane when he received the note from a servant, read it, and frowned ferociously.

"Trouble, Brother?"

He looked around, and Jane said, "Relax Fitzwilliam, I made sure there are no listening busybodies around."

Darcy grinned a bit, but it did not have his usual zest.

"Well, funny you should ask Jane. This may or may not be trouble… it is entirely up to you."

"Oh, dear!"

Darcy sucked in a deep breath, and said, "This is from Bingley. He is ensconced in a private dining room and begs for five minutes of your time. He specifically asked if you might join him and bring both myself and your father."

Jane frowned ferociously, and asked, "Why you?"

"To protect your reputation. You cannot be having a particular type of discussion with your father with me in the room."

"What should I do?"

"You are asking **ME**?"

Jane laughed, without much humor, but finally said, "As angry as I was with you, Fitzwilliam, you must admit that in the end, you were right. I probably owe you. I will take my chances with your advice."

Darcy thought, and said, "Put him out of his misery. I would hope to retain his friendship, but that will not happen if the two of you are at odds."

"Why is that?"

"Be sensible, Jane. If I have to choose between a Bennet and a Bingley, the Bennet will win every time."

Jane laughed, and said, "You are a besotted fool!"

Darcy laughed along with her and said, "Stating the obvious, Jane. What do we do?"

"Let us get it over with."

"Very well, I see Mr. Bennet there talking to Sir William. I will take him into the room. You can join us in a minute."

"All right."

* * *

Jane walked into the room five minutes later and saw the tableau she had been fearing for a while, but in the end, it was not nearly as intimidating as it might have been. Mr. Bingley looked like he had some hope left, and it was time to, as Fitzwilliam said, _'put him out of his misery'_.

"Miss Bennet, thank you for agreeing to see me."

Jane curtsied, and said only, "Mr. Bingley."

Bingley seemed to be gathering his courage, and finally said, "I owe you a most profound apology, Miss Bennet. The way I treated you last Autumn was infamous. I have come to regret it deeply, and I have come to offer my apologies, and ask if any reparations are in order."

Jane smiled, and said, "I happily accept your apology, Mr. Bingley. Rancor hurts the person holding it more than the target. I have let all of that go, and I am the better for it."

"I thank you, Miss Bennet."

Jane looked at him, and really wondered what she had seen in him in the first place. For certain, she had been more desperate at that time, and more pressured by her mother, but she had really thought herself in love with him. He no longer seemed such a spineless worm, as keeping that image in her mind cost herself more than it was worth, but he was also not really someone she could esteem. In truth, she just saw a boy who might one day be a man… but not today."

Bingley continued, "Miss Bennet…"

Jane thought she saw a bit of hope in his eyes, since the forgiving part had gone so well, and decided to quash it.

"A moment, Mr. Bingley. I am not finished."

Bingley stopped, and said, "My apologies. Please continue."

Jane stared at him, and then walked a few steps closer to be sure he understood the message she wanted to deliver.

"Mr. Bingley, what you did was _awful_. It was despicable, and you should know I suffered considerably for it. Have you any idea what it is like for a woman to be scorned by idle gossip among the people she has known all her life? Do you have any concept of how vile the words in your sister's letter were? I went to London for four months just to escape it, and I would probably still be affected if I had not met Anne and Fitzwilliam by chance."

"You were in London for four months?", Bingley asked with a bit of panic.

"Yes, sir, I was. I called on your sisters in January. They waited three weeks and made a call that was as close to a direct cut as slapping me in the face publicly."

Darcy gasped, and said, "My apologies, Jane. I did not know about that."

Jane looked at him, and said, "Get out of the habit of apologizing for other people, Fitzwilliam Darcy. You make enough of your own blunders, so focus on them."

Of course, she said it with a small quirk of her mouth that Darcy would understand would mean she was teasing, but Bingley would not, and she thought that a fine thing. She would have been happy to marry Mr. Bingley the previous Autumn, when he was not even as astute about women as Mr. Darcy; but now, she considered it a narrow escape.

Jane turned back to Bingley, and said, "You offered reparations, Mr. Bingley. Are you serious?"

"Of course, Miss Bennet."

Somewhat put out by the flippancy of the answer, she leaned closer and practically snarled, "Do not answer so glibly, Sir. My reparations will either make you or break you, so do not agree in advance."

Bingley looked a bit frightened, which was exactly what Jane wanted.

"If you wish to make reparations sufficient to have an ongoing acquaintance of any kind with myself or any of my sisters, I have three conditions."

Darcy muttered, _'Oh boy, here it comes'_ under his breath.

Bingley said, "Name your conditions, Miss Bennet."

Jane saw he still harbored some hope, thin as it was so it was time to kill it.

"Very well Mr. Bingley, here are my three reparations.  
Number 1: Admit your fault and learn from it. You act like an overgrown boy, so start acting like a man.  
Number 2: You are _never_ allowed to court anyone named Bennet. We are indifferent acquaintances at best.  
Number 3: _Do what you must to reign in your pernicious sisters before they destroy the rest of your life._"

With that, Jane turned around and walked away, quite satisfied with the interaction.

* * *

As Jane walked out the door, Darcy turned to Bingley, and said, "Well, Bingley, we share something."

"Which is?"

"We have both been exposed to what I call the 'Jane Bennet Big Three'. Take my word for it, you do not want another one."

Bingley laughed a bit sheepishly, and said, "No, one of those was enough for me."

Darcy said, "I owe you an apology, Bingley. I have treated you like a much younger brother for some time, and it is time to stand on your own two feet. The only way to improve your lot is to follow her advice. She is practically a genius, you know."

Bingley nodded, and sheepishly asked, "All hope is gone, I assume."

"Yes, you burned that bridge, my friend. But do not despair. There are other women out there, and you will find one that suits you sooner or later. You have time, but here is my very last piece of advice. Pay _particular_ attention to number three, or your sisters will henpeck you the rest of your life."

Bingley said, "But how do I…"

Then he blew out a laugh, and said, "Well, that is how I got into trouble in the first place. Any other advice?"

"Netherfield is your estate for the next eight months. It is your responsibility. Jane has been seeing to your tenants, but…"

"Be a man, I assume is what you are working your way up to?"

"Yes. Treat the Bennets with respect and they will return it. Mr. Bennet knows more about your estate than you do. Take advantage of it, but if you want to be a landed gentleman, be a landed gentleman. If you do not, then quit pretending and give up the lease to someone who does."

"And you, my friend. Why are you here?"

"Working on my Number 3. I will tell you another time Bingley… another time."

Bingley shook his head, shook Darcy's hand, and said, "Be well, my friend."

Then he turned and walked out the side door, to return to Netherfield and see if he could manage to learn to execute Number 2.

* * *

"Miss Lydia, that was… interesting."

Lydia Bennet laughed gaily, while walking away from the dance with her hopefully soon to be brother, and said, "My pleasure, Br…"

Darcy thought he had made significant progress, when she became aware of the possibility of gossip when he simply raised his eyebrow at her.

She pretend‑pouted, and said, "You know Lizzy does that. You will need a different twitch, or you will not know which of you is vexed at any particular time."

Darcy just laughed and returned her to her sister Jane, when he was approached by his own express rider, and Lydia flounced off to find Kitty.

Darcy looked around to be sure only Jane was within earshot and spoke to the rider.

"Robert, 'tis good to see you. Have you any news?"

Darcy had debated telling anybody anything at all about Elizabeth, but in the end, had told one trusted express rider at each house to come find him instantly if he found out anything at all about her. He had not mentioned her to Georgiana because he judged the chance of her showing up at Pemberley to be practically nil, and he had not told anybody else to protect her reputation.

The rider looked around, and Darcy said, "Speak freely, Robert. The Bennets are in my confidence. This is Miss Elizabeth's sister, and she knows what we are about."

Darcy was happy to see his rider relax a bit, and say, "Good evening, Miss Bennet, is it? Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

Jane curtsied, not entirely appropriate but courteous anyway, and said, "Good evening, Mr.…"

"Tattershall, ma'am. Robert Tattershall."

Jane smiled, and said, "What do you have for Mr. Darcy, sir?"

Robert returned his attention to Darcy, and said, "Two notes, sir. The oldest is from Lady Matlock, but she instructed the rider to leave it at Darcy House until another more urgent note came by. It has been there for a week or so. The second is from Miss Darcy, four days ago, and she requests you return to Pemberley. They have had a measles outbreak, and it has laid low both the butler and housekeeper."

"Blast! And the steward is away for a week as well."

Darcy had barely managed the expletive, before his good manners kicked in, but Jane just shushed him, saying, "I have heard worse in my own bed chamber, Fitzwilliam."

Darcy asked, "Is Georgie in distress?"

"Oh, no, Sir. Not particularly. Mrs. Reynolds is quite ill, but she instructed your sister in what she needed to do. Miss Darcy dedicated the guest wing as a quarantine, called in the apothecary from Lambton to offer advice, and just carried on. She says she is perfectly content with Mrs. Annesley, since they are not expecting any company. Breton is still there to make sure nothing terrible happens, so she was not panicked. She just wanted you to come home as soon as possible, but she also sent someone to Matlock to ask for assistance."

Darcy chuckled, and said, "Well, well… perhaps Georgiana is growing up, if she is handling this without difficulty."

The rider grinned, nodded his head, and said, "She was certainly not in any panic when I left, Sir. I had some torrential rain which cost me a couple of days, but it is not as if she will suddenly have dozens of visitors. The measles outbreak is worrisome, but I daresay Miss Darcy is doing just fine."

Darcy nodded, and said, "All the same, measles is nasty, and it could get worse or spread, and a death or two is to be expected. I am certain my Aunt would have gone over to help her out, but I will leave at first light and make best speed. Thank you, Robert."

Jane said, "Mr. Tattershall, please go to the left out the front door, then take the fourth drive on the right. A mile will get you to Longbourn. Tell Mrs. Hill that Jane sent you, and she will get you a meal and a bed."

Darcy said, "Thank you, Jane. Robert, I will speak to you in the morning."

"Yes, Sir."

Darcy started thinking about what he needed to do, so was a little bit startled when Jane said, "Fitzwilliam?"

"Yes, Jane."

"If you are going North, there is some chance you might stumble into Lizzy. Let me send some letters with you for her."

"Letters?"

"Yes, all of the sisters have written letters pleading your case. Of course, Lydia's is only a single paragraph with the word 'lunkhead' used three times, but every bit helps."

Darcy laughed in appreciation of the lady. He had to admit that _some_ man was going to be very lucky to obtain her hand one day, and he dearly hoped to be there to witness it.

Anne walked up right then, and Jane had a whispered conversation to bring her up to date, while Darcy opened the note from Lady Matlock, which he had almost forgotten.

Both heard Darcy gasp when he read the letter, and then he started laughing uproariously.

Both ladies looked at him quizzically, and he said, "Well, that is classic. Elizabeth was at Matlock a fortnight ago. She is traveling with a wool broker named Wythe, who is well known to my uncle… and…"

Jane saw his countenance darken, and then he gave a self‑deprecating chuckle.

Anne asked, "Fitzwilliam?"

"It appears I have, and I quote, _'some explaining to do'_. You know my aunt. She would have invited Elizabeth to tea and interrogated her. She cannot help herself."

Jane looked at him oddly, so he continued.

"Well, the _'explaining' _part is that my aunt apparently mentioned Richard and I, and your sister nearly broke a tooth in consternation, but would not explain why. All my aunt is certain of is that somehow Elizabeth was injured, and it was obviously mine and Richard's fault."

Anne laughed, and said, "Astute woman, Aunt Matlock! You cannot claim she was wrong."

"Not at all. She was right… as usual."

Everyone looked down a bit in consternation, but then Darcy laughed, and said, "I know exactly where Elizabeth was a fortnight ago."

Jane laughed, and said, "A fortnight. How far could she possibly have gone. You must go to Derbyshire and see if you can find her. I doubt this Mr. Wythe is invisible and untraceable."

Darcy nodded in agreement, smiling hugely.

Jane had wondered why Lizzy never wrote to her, but assumed she wanted to keep her trail secret until her birthday, which was both sensible and stupid… typical Lizzy.

Anne said, "Take us with you Darcy. If she comes back here, Mr. Bennet will make your case, or at least call for you. Perhaps leave Robert here as a messenger? Leave her that five‑page letter you have been working on for a month."

Darcy nodded his head in thought, and said, "That is good thinking, Anne. I cannot take everyone, but how about Miss Taylor, you and Jane. I am not certain I would survive my next encounter with Breton without Miss Taylor anyway."

Jane nodded, and said, "We will be ready at first light."


	32. Family Wing

_A/N: Hey gang, 4 chapters to go and a sort-of epilogue, so I'm posting them all at once. I will blame any delay on LadyJaeza who published some new chapters to Hidden Stitches which I had to read hot off the press. Wade_

* * *

Elizabeth woke up at seven as usual on her twenty first birthday.

The three days that had elapsed since what they all euphemistically called 'the first sister incident' in the Blue Parlor had been spent in a tremendous amount of reflection in odd moments between attending her duties. She had to admit that Mr. Darcy, while still quite confusing, seemed to be losing a good deal of his allotment of animosity. Perhaps the hole he had dug himself was down to the size of Netherfield, and their first meeting could even reduce it to the size of Longbourn. She had to sheepishly admit that most of his worst sins were seen by her through a prism of prejudice triggered by one ill‑mannered remark that would have been completely unremarkable in Longbourn.

Elizabeth was beginning to advance a hypothesis that the duties of a mistress would expand to include everything she was willing to accept. She had noticed a lot of things coming to her attention that should really have been settled by someone else. Consequently, she had started deflecting things back downward toward the people that should have dealt with them in the first place. Lady Matlock noticed the change, and she smiled in approval the first time she saw Elizabeth gently chide a footman, telling him that he was an intelligent man, who had been in the house more than a decade longer than her, and he should be able to use a bit of initiative.

Stewart brought her breakfast as usual, and the kitchen now seemed to know just what she wanted on any particular day. Elizabeth had no idea how they pulled it off, since she herself did not know what she wanted when she got out of bed. She imagined she had unconsciously decided on a policy of wanting whatever was on the tray so she would have one decision removed from her purview.

After breakfast, she had her bath as usual, and she had to be fitted for yet another dress as usual. Stewart had tried to suggest a _new_ dress might be the thing, but Elizabeth tamped that idea down as hard as she could. While she was perfectly willing to act as mistress until Mr. Darcy returned, she expected his return any day.

Mr. Breton had told her that, based on the weather, the express rider had likely been delayed by at least two days, and possibly more, and the only thing Mr. Darcy would know about was the Measles. By then however, he should well have caught up with the gentleman wherever Mr. Darcy was, most likely Longbourn, and the master was almost certainly on his way. Breton's best guess was that they were two days from his arrival.

After bathing, and dressing, the mistress was interrupted by a note from one of the builders in Kympton. The man had an opportunity to purchase quite a large store of building material for the villagers from a bankrupt supplier. However, the decision had to be made within the hour, and the materials would have to be paid for in hard coin, which may or may not be recoverable from the villagers. Elizabeth thought this was probably a decision for Lady Matlock, but so far, that lady had steadfastly refused to make _any_ judgements. The infuriating woman would only state that she would fully support any decision Elizabeth made. If they had financial consequences that annoyed her nephew, she would either cover the costs from Matlock's coffers, thump her nephew on the head, or both.

In the beginning, Elizabeth had worried over every pound, and had to think about £10. She had gradually got so an expenditure of £50-100 was fairly ordinary, but this was £1,000. The materials they were purchasing were worth close to two, so it was quite a good opportunity, but she had no idea at what rate the villagers could pay it back, or even if Mr. Darcy would demand repayment.

Elizabeth was thinking furiously about the matter, determined she would finally make Lady Matlock earn her keep, so she rushed out of the room to find her. The lady was probably still in her suite, so Elizabeth turned in that direction, but her progress was interrupted when she ran into a brick wall that had not been there previously. Before she could think, or even understand what was happening, she found herself falling backwards towards what was likely to be a painful and humiliating landing flat on her back.

Much to the lady's surprise, the ignominious fall was arrested in the middle, and she found herself gently restored to her feet. Her thinking was still a touch muddled, as she could feel a pair of strong hands holding her about the waist, and then noticed her hands were atop a pair of shoulders, and final, her eyes traveled up to find she was but a foot from the admittedly very handsome, but worried looking countenance of none other than Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley.

In that instance, she was assailed with so many sensations, she had no possible way to sort them out. She was vaguely aware that his hands were still grasping her waist, and somewhat surprised to feel that it did not bother her in the least. As her dawning comprehension concentrated on that feeling, she found that his hands were neither grasping tighter than they needed to, nor did the owner seem in any hurry to release her. She felt, right in that moment, that those hands represented a bit of safety… as if Mr. Darcy wanted to insure her wellbeing and nothing else.

Her own hands she found resting on his shoulders, and she very curiously, felt no great need to remove them and restore the distance that propriety and long habit should require.

All of those thoughts circled her head leaving it quite muddled, and there were no convenient ghosts to advise her, so naturally her mouth spit out the very first thought that occurred to her addled mind.

"Mr. Darcy, what are you doing here?"

She was a bit distressed that the first words out of her mouth since the abominable proposal were an impertinent, and mostly irrelevant question, but was surprised to see something both new and unexpected. Mr. Darcy smiled, and in that smile, she saw things she might have recognized before if she had not been so biased against him. She had never seen a _real_ smile from him, but she had seen their smaller cousins sometimes when he stared at her. Something about his countenance seemed… altered. She saw a hint of… what was it… perhaps chagrin… perhaps concern… perhaps impertinence… perhaps… vulnerability?

Before she could get her head reorganized to ask a more sensible question, the gentleman answered with a smile and a completely unexpected chuckle.

"I live here."

Elizabeth laughed at the obviously somewhat ridiculous exchange, but her mouth continued on without any sense whatsoever.

"Yes, sir, I am aware. I just meant… well… what are you doing in _this part_ of the wing?"

Once again, she thought the question idiotic, but the gentleman did not seem to mind, as he flicked his eyes to a door a dozen feet away and replied with a gentle smile.

"That is my room."

Elizabeth looked at the door and found a bit of indignation in her reply.

"Why, that little minx! Georgie assigned me this room on my very first night here. What was she thinking placing me only a dozen feet from your chambers?"

Surprisingly, the gentleman started to laugh, but it was a gentle laugh, completely devoid of censure. It still muddled her thinking considerably. After his laughter died down, he replied.

"What indeed? But I must correct you on one particular. It is true the rooms are but fifteen feet apart, but that is only in the corridor. Inside, they are separated by the thickness of a door."

**"She did not!"**

Darcy chuckled, and said, "Perhaps my sister was being somewhat presumptuous, but I can assure you that I find no objection to you residing in the Mistress' Suite."

Elizabeth turned beet red in embarrassment. She did not know if she was more embarrassed by the impropriety of staying in that particular suite, or stupidity that she had not worked it out before. Of course, then she wondered if Georgiana had painted her in an even tighter corner than her own actions already had. However, she immediately decided it made little difference in the end. She had already been as presumptuous as it was possible to be, and it was hard to see how the choice of a bedchamber in that circumstance could change anything. It was just another gallon of water under the bridge.

Darcy noticed her consternation, leaned his head closer, and said, "Fear not, Elizabeth. Nobody will read any more into this than you desire. Perhaps Georgiana was just being hopeful. She is young, and a bit impetuous, but I should hope that you are not distressed by it?"

With a sigh, she said, "No, I suppose not. The entire experience has been so odd that it is difficult to know when we passed from unlikely to strange to ridiculous to fantastic."

Darcy chuckled, and said, "I shall, to the very best of my ability, insure that you have your own choices. I would not have you forced to any action by any factor other than your own desires."

Elizabeth nodded, and said, "Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I appreciate it."

That said, she did not know what to do. So far, this had been the most peculiar discussion, and not at all how she had expected to resolve their last conversation, if you could call it that, in Hunsford Cottage.

Elizabeth was mostly filled with confusion. She had come to know the real gentleman much better through the reports of his relatives and had come to a much better understanding of him. Of course, that just made her wonder what his interest in _her_ was, and if it had even survived. If he was a man who regretted making an offer, he was certainly not acting like it, but it was difficult to believe a man with even a modicum of pride would still be interested in a woman who ran from him like a frightened rabbit.

Somewhat incongruously, Darcy said, "Jane, Anne and Mary Taylor will be here in a few hours, around ten at the very latest. I rode ahead to arrive last night. I talked to Breton and my aunt for some time, so I am aware of what a wonderful job you have been doing here. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done so far, and I will praise you to the skies, but I have substantial competition in that area."

Somewhat stumped, she said, "Jane?"

"Yes, I am on a given name basis with all of your sisters. They all wrote letters for you. Jane has them. I believe you also know that Jane has forgiven me my officious interference, little though I deserved it. Even Lydia wrote something, although Jane describes it as mostly a diatribe against my general lunkheadedness."

Elizabeth let out an exasperated sigh, and said, "You are the most confusing man!"

He chuckled, and said, "Yes, I know. I apologize, but my purpose here is to let you resolve the confusion, and I hope you like the man that your family has helped me become, better than my evil twin that you knew before."

"Evil twin?"

Darcy laughed, "A term Jane came up with. A bit hyperbolic, but accurate. I quite despise the man."

Even more confused now, Elizabeth felt her mind and her emotions swirling around in a mad dash. One minute she was running from him as fast as she could, and the next she was wishing he would be less gentlemanly with the hands still attached to her waist.

In an attempt to make order from her thoughts, she said, "Mr. Darcy… well… I… we need to…"

Darcy, either wisely or timidly said nothing, but kept looking into her eyes.

Needing _something_ she could resolve, just to prove to herself that she was still capable of resolution, Elizabeth said, "This will sound incongruous, but… but…"

Darcy nodded kindly, and said, "How may I help?"

"I… well, I cannot call you Mr. Darcy. It muddles my thinking, and forgive me for saying this, but it may be some time before I can associate 'Mr. Darcy' with anything other than your evil twin."

Darcy chuckled, a sound Elizabeth was no longer so averse to, and said, "Almost everyone calls me 'Darcy'. Georgiana calls me 'Brother' or occasionally 'William'. Anne usually calls me 'Lunkhead'.'"

"Almost everyone calls me 'Lizzy' or occasionally 'Eliza'. I do not know why, but… I want something of my own – without attaching any more meaning to it."

Darcy smiled, and said, "We could prove ourselves to be radicals, upend all family tradition, and call each other 'Fitzwilliam ' and 'Elizabeth'."

"Yes, I would like that."

"Once again, how may I help you, Elizabeth. I can see you are nervous… as am I."

"We have so much… so much… so much…"

"Confusion? Misunderstanding? Expectations? Desires?"

Elizabeth laughed a bit, and said, "All of those and more. I imagine first things first. Do I have any reputation left? Am I _obligated_ to anything to protect my sisters?"

Fitzwilliam gasped in shock at the very idea, and nearly shouted, "NO! I will not allow it. I have lumbered around like a bull in a china shop for a month, but your family and I have worked diligently and carefully to insure your reputation is sterling. _I am resolved that you shall act in that manner, which will, in your own opinion, constitute your happiness, without reference to me, or to any person presently unconnected with you."_

Elizabeth looked at him intently, and he gently squeezed her waist, which he was still holding, and said, "I will protect you, Elizabeth, regardless of what you choose. I will protect _your choice. _I swear this to you."

"Thank you… Fitzwilliam. I… well… I imagine if you are on a given name basis with Jane and Lydia you know how close I came to saying things that could not be unsaid in Hunsford?"

With a chuckle, Darcy replied, "Well, I can tell you that us Darcys are perhaps more resilient than you might think. I have been taken down by several pegs by Anne, Jane, Lady Matlock, Lydia, Mary… well, you get the idea. And yet, here I am."

Quite confusedly, Elizabeth asked, "Jane… my sister, Jane?"

Darcy chuckled again, and said, "I see twenty‑one years were insufficient for you get on her bad side. In general, I do not recommend it."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "**Jane**… Jane Bennet!"

"The same. We have much to discuss about her, but she is happy. She is formidable. She has a new best friend. She has a purpose. You need not concern yourself with Jane."

Elizabeth just stared at him, and said, "Jane!"

Darcy just nodded.

"Is there anything else you wish to tell me about my family."

Darcy laughed, and said, "Oh, a great many things. I like them all tremendously. Your father and I can discuss literature for hours and assures me that you can do the same. Your younger sisters are lively and silly, but not overly so. Mary is less studious than you probably think. Kitty might crawl out from under Lydia's shadow soon. And best of all, your mother is a force to be reckoned with."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Do you ever see ghosts, Fitzwilliam ?"

Darcy smiled, and said, "Yes, I do. I discussed this very topic with Jane, not long after she made me cry… me!... a man grown. She theorizes that you listened to your mother, and that was what kept you from rejecting me outright."

Blushing beet red and stared at the floor, Elizabeth said, "She was right, although I do not wish to repeat what she said."

"As I said. Your mother gave me a _chance_. It is something I did not deserve, but I will accept it all the same. I like your mother very much."


	33. Something New

Elizabeth just shook her head in confusion, and then she noticed her hands still on his shoulders. She knew there were no footmen in the corridor, since she had shooed them from the area permanently until things settled down, and nobody was supposed to bring her notes for anything except extreme emergencies while she was above stairs. They would have a few more minutes of privacy.

Somewhat timidly, she whispered, _'Do I still have a decision to make? Is your offer even still open?'_

He somewhat timidly replied, "It is open, but I would prefer it if you would let me make a not _truly dreadfully awful proposal_."

**"You shall do no such thing!"**

The strength and vehemence of the reply stunned both the speaker and the listener, and Elizabeth found that she really had to stop and think about what caused that particular outburst.

"I am sorry, Fitzwilliam … I…"

"Do not apologize, Elizabeth. I was the one that…"

She shook her head to silence him and was happy to see it was enough to keep him from rattling on in that manner.

"You see, Fitzwilliam … I… well… you understand that I am confused, correct?"

"Yes, quite understandably. But if you are not implacably opposed to my suit, I would hope to prevail, but only after I have proven myself."

Elizabeth thought a moment, and said, "Therein lies the problem, and the reason for my outburst. You see Fitzwilliam … you see… well…"

For a moment, she ran out of words, but then gathered her courage to continue.

"You see, Fitzwilliam, I disapprove of the idea of a man 'proving himself', or the contrary for a woman. I… well… I cannot believe I am saying this, but I disapprove of 'courting'. It smacks of deceit and cunning. A woman should marry a man, and vice versa based on who they are, not who they pretend to be while on their very best behavior, and I know for a fact that _courting behavior_ never lasts. "

Fitzwilliam nodded, and said, "I can understand that."

"You see, Fitzwilliam … I believe… well, I will accept or reject your original proposal. It was not _entirely_ awful."

Fitzwilliam snorted, and said, "Only mostly."

Looking sympathetically, she said, "Yes, well that much most be acknowledged, and one day, if I accept it, you may apologize for it… but… but… well, Sir."

Elizabeth paused for words for a moment, then looked at him intently and continued.

"What you call your 'evil twin' is **you**. It is a part of you, whether you now think you despise him or not. He is still there, perhaps temporarily chastened, perhaps better educated and informed, perhaps tamed, but still present. _Your pride is part of you, and it is not entirely, or even mostly, bad. _Your family has held this land for six hundred years! You are entitled to some pride… some, being the key word. It just needs to be… how did you put it at Netherfield… 'under good regulation'."

She smiled a bit to remove some of the sting.

"Everybody learns and changes over time and experience, Fitzwilliam, but they are still in essentials very much the same. Some amalgam of that arrogant, prideful man and your currently best‑behaved self is the _real_ you. That _real_ you, has a chance to grow and change and become a good father, a worthy husband and all of the other things you strive for, but the shadow of the boy always exists in the man, just as the shadow of the girl exists in the woman. This amalgam… this evolving man… _that_ is the man I will either marry or not."

In some relief, Fitzwilliam asked, "Does that mean you do not reject me outright?"

"Yes, of course. I am still here, when I could have avoided you easily by leaving when Lady Matlock appeared. Nobody will convince me she could not manage Pemberley. I wish to make the _best_ decision… for both of us. We have… well, we have much to discuss, but…"

"Yes"

"But… well, circumstances have removed any chance to discuss it at length over a long time. My reputation ticks down into the drain minute by minute. Expectations are being created hour by hour. Too many people know I am here, and what I am doing. Your reputation might suffer a significant hit after what has transpired here if we do not have a good explanation before the vacuum of local gossip makes one up. We do not have the luxury of weeks or months to court. I fear we must decide fairly quickly."

Fitzwilliam hated the sound of that, but had to agree with the logic, so he nodded.

Elizabeth said, "Fitzwilliam … I… well… I mean… Would you do something for me? Something extreme?"

"NAME IT!"

Elizabeth sighed, looked straight into his eyes, and screwed up her courage once more.

"All these weeks and months, we have both been chewing over the remains of the six weeks you spent in Hertfordshire last autumn like a dog with a bone… all the words, actions, impressions, looks, thoughts, miscommunications, interferences… all of it. I want _something entirely new_ to think about. Something entirely new for _both of us._ It will certainly be new for me, and according to your aunt, for you as well."

"I am at your disposal, Elizabeth."

"Might you do something with me that will take five or ten minutes, but then put the experience in a box, and not attach any more significance to it than it deserves. Not imply anything beyond the experience itself, and whatever we learn from it."

Scrunching his eyes in confusion, Fitzwilliam said, "I am at your disposal."

Gently nodding her head, and with some trepidation, Elizabeth began.

It was the easiest thing in the world for her to move her hands from the outside of his shoulders, where they were still stuck after her near‑fall of a dozen minutes past, to his neck.

It was the easiest thing in the world to squeeze the back of his neck and twine her fingers into his hair.

It was the easiest thing in the world to move her face slowly closer to his, and watch his eyes grow as she reduced the gap inch by inch.

It was the easiest thing in the world to finally reach across and gently touch his lips to hers. She felt like her insides lit on fire and thought it entirely possible she was glowing, or likely to pass out. She felt his hands squeeze her waist a bit tighter and found herself not at all opposed to the feeling.

It was the easiest thing in the world for her to increase the pressure on his lips, and move them around a bit awkwardly, but very pleasurably. She felt his hands pull her towards him and felt that he must be in conflict between his instinctive desires, and his gentlemanly training, yet she had no doubt at all which would win.

It was the easiest thing in the world to pull him even tighter and move one of her hands up further on his head to show she was serious and encourage him to lean just the tiniest bit away from deeply engrained _gentlemanly behavior_. She felt him respond by wrapping his hands back around her waist to her back to pull her even closer.

It was the easiest thing in the world to acquiesce to his pull and mold her body tightly against his waistcoat while continuing the intense pleasure and feeling of belonging that she was getting from the contact between their lips.

It was the easiest thing in the world to open her mouth and extend her tongue to feel his lips, then withdraw it to feel his respond in kind, hoping that he was savoring the sensation as she was.

It was the easiest thing in the world to mold her body even tighter against his chest, and wrap her elbows around his shoulder ever tighter, causing him to wrap his arms entirely around her waist.

It was the easiest thing in the world to move her tongue into his waiting mouth, and thereafter brush first against his teeth, and then in a bit of a duel with his tongue. It was the easiest thing in the world to allow him to do the same and allow him his own free exploration, all the while, feeling as if she were about to catch fire.

It was the easiest thing in the world to do all this, and she felt that there was _something entirely new_ happening. She felt like the glow must be so bright that anybody would be able to see it in her countenance for at least the next fortnight.

Elizabeth, for the very first time she could remember, felt _perfectly content in the moment._ For just a twinkling, all the doubts, fears, thoughts, confusion and anxiety of the previous months just faded away as if they had never existed. For the very first time she could remember, she was _well and truly happy_, and that was the most frightening thought she could ever remember.

It was the hardest thing in the world to give his tongue and his teeth one last caress, and then slowly, ever so slowly, withdraw her tongue to her own mouth.

It was the hardest thing in the world to close her mouth just enough to deny his tongue, even though she could tell that was in this matter, he was the slave, and she the master.

It was the hardest thing in the world to slow down the wonderous feelings of contact, and gradually reduce the pressure of their mouths, until it was as light as a butterfly's wing.

It was the hardest thing in the world to gradually reduce the pressure with which she was pulling his head to hers, and to allow a small space to form.

It was the hardest thing in the world to endure his following of her implied instructions by gradually reducing the pressure on her back and allowing her chest to reduce the pressure and feeling of closeness between them.

It was the hardest thing in the world to _finally_, after what felt like hours, pull her lips away from his and finally return her hands to the base of his neck.

It was the hardest thing in the world to gently push his shoulders to gain a bit of separation between them, until they returned almost to their original positions.

It was the most natural thing in the world to move her hands down from his shoulders, and lightly grasp his lapels.

It was the most natural thing in the world to curl her arms down between their bodies, and pull herself closer to him, with nothing but her folded arms preventing them from descending back into the fire.

It was the most natural thing in the world for Fitzwilliam to move his arms up to surround her shoulders, and pull her close, tucking her head under his much taller chin.

It was the most natural thing in the world for her to lay her ear against his chest, where she could occasionally hear his heartbeat, and yet, still be able to speak and hear.

"Fitzwilliam ?"

"Yes, Elizabeth."

"That… that… that… that is something entirely new, just as I hoped. It satisfies one of my curiosities."

"Which is?"

Elizabeth chuckled, and Fitzwilliam felt like he could feel her smile physically against his chest.

"I wondered if we might have… passion."

Fitzwilliam chuckled along with her, and said, "I believe that question has been answered definitively. It is a first for me, and hopefully last, although to be fair…"

"Yes."

"For me, it is just confirmation."

Elizabeth chuckled, and said, "Would I seem loose or wanton if I sheepishly admitted that, while my feelings are of much shorter duration than yours, and perhaps temporarily of less intensity… well, I also think of it as confirmation."

Darcy chuckled, squeezed her tighter, and whispered, _'My beautiful Elizabeth… My…'_

"Shhhhh… Shhhhh… Shhhhh…"

Fitzwilliam wondered what was coming next.

"Fitzwilliam, we still have much to discuss… privately. I imagine I should also turn management of your household back to you as well."

"What on Earth makes you think I am willing to fix what is not broken."

Elizabeth laughed, wondering if stubbornness in a matter like this was passed down from aunt to nephew.

"Fitzwilliam I need to limit your access to your Aunt?"

"Do you plan to limit my access to Breton, or Georgiana, or the villagers", Fitzwilliam said with a chuckle.

"All right, you win! Well, then. I need to go spend £1,000 of your money. Might we go for a walk in say a half‑hour?"

"Hopefully, it will be £1,000 of _our_ money. May I accompany you on your rounds?"

Elizabeth smiled, and said, "For part of them, but on the matter of the £1,000 – well, to be honest I think it will become two if you negotiate it."

Fitzwilliam laughed, and said, "Breton was right. I will have a mutiny if I do not manage to keep you here as mistress."

Elizabeth felt _most_ uncomfortable with the discussion, but managed to separate herself and stand alone, ready to proceed. She even managed to do it with only one more quick kiss on the cheek and a Lydia like giggle.

Fitzwilliam offered his arm, and she took it.

"When we get to the ballroom, you may observe but please stay out of sight."

"By your command, my lady."

She just barely refrained from correcting him.


	34. Ground Floor

Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth's descent to the ballroom was entirely uneventful and free of hidden meaning, except for the smirk they got from Georgiana as she saw her friend Lizzy walking arm in arm with her brother, and the smirk they got from Lady Matlock as she saw her hopefully future niece walking arm in arm with her lunkhead nephew, and the bright smile from Stewart who saw the possibility of finally being able to fit her mistress with a _new_ dress and not a hand‑me‑down, or the smiles and respectful nods of all the footmen and maids, who seemed to be thicker on the route than usual by at least double. At the end, Elizabeth thought it might not have been the best strategy if she was trying to escape Pemberley, but a second perusal of the thought was that it was akin to worrying about a hangnail when you had just been shot.

When they arrived at the ballroom doors, they met Breton, who smiled enough to lighten up the room, bowed very respectfully to the mistress, and smacked the master on the arm hard enough to raise a bruise.

Not a man opposed to an opportunity for impertinence, he said.

"Miss Bennet, Darcy, it is so nice to see you so… err… harmonious?"

Fitzwilliam laughed, a sound Elizabeth still found disconcerting, but one that she could probably accustom herself to, and replied, "Remember that your courtship is to start in less than four hours, Breton, and I have a _long memory_."

With a huge laugh, the stablemaster replied with a proper bow to show the appropriate respect for the master of the estate, and it was only marginally injured by an impertinent smirk.

Elizabeth said, "Fitzwilliam, I have some affairs to see to in here. Please take Mr. Breton out back and see if you can beat any sense into him."

Both gentlemen roared in laughter, and Elizabeth wondered if she had made her ultimate position better or worse, or if it even mattered. She still liked to think she had a decision to make, but she could see that the Longbourn sized hole Fitzwilliam had dug for himself was smaller than Lucas Lodge already.

They entered the ballroom, but she pointed to an unobtrusive corner behind a support column where the men could see all that was happening without being easily seen, and they followed instructions like two well trained dogs.

Elizabeth then pulled on what she thought of her _Mistress of Pemberley_ face, and went in to meet the villagers.

Most of the villagers had by now worked out that even if she was not the 'real' mistress of the estate, she carried the same whip the real mistress would carry, and they owed her their respect. There was plenty of doffing of caps from the men, which Elizabeth accepted with the best grace she could, although it was not always that good. The women of the room had quickly learned that a small curtsy followed by a genuine greeting went a long way, and a deep curtsy followed by excessive fawning led to moving their priorities to the very bottom of any list.

Elizabeth was just greeting one woman, Mrs. Hind, who was quite heavily pregnant but refused to move to a room in the family wing, when she heard a loud commotion a dozen feet away. Two boys of around seventeen years, were standing a foot or two apart, hands balled into fists, rage showing on their faces, yelling at each other loud enough to be heard upstairs. They both looked like blacksmith's sons, each being close to six feet tall, well-muscled, and apparently strong as an ox. Both appeared about ready to do some real damage to the other. The two boys, named Hatcher and Longman had been problematic before, and Elizabeth had endured just about all she intended to from them.

She glanced over to the corner with Darcy and Breton, and saw both men starting to stride her way, but she waved her hand discreetly. Darcy, as she expected, saw her signal and looked at her more carefully, while reaching out to stop Breton. She waved them back to their corner, and when Darcy showed signs of being ready to argue, she frowned with an expression that promised retribution for lack of compliance. If she could not handle two overgrown toddlers, she had no business being mistress of a great estate.

Darcy, surprised by her decision, but unwilling to contradict clear instruction when he was not at all certain he was out of the doghouse yet, decided to go along with the scheme, but God help those boys if the injured so much as a hair on his Elizabeth's head. Breton just laughed, and said, "Sit back, Darcy. You will want to see this."

Quite calmly, as if she had all day, the Mistress said a few more words to Mrs. Hind, and kissed her on the cheek. A few more words were exchanged, and the lady took Elizabeth's hand and held it on her stomach for a few seconds, which drew a huge smile from the mistress.

Then, sighing in resignation, she walked away from the expectant mother.

As she walked across the floor, Darcy could swear she got a foot taller right before his eyes. Breton just chuckled, and said, "You have no idea what you are getting yourself into, my friend."

Looking like an admittedly short Valkyrie, Elizabeth walked right up to the two boys, whose shouting match was truly getting out of hand, calmly reached up, and grabbed both boys by their ears. All appearance said that she was an inch from drawing blood, because both boys immediately stopped their shouting, and reached for their ears, before they saw that it was the Mistress of the House who had them. At that point, they both became preternaturally still.

Elizabeth held their ears, apparently squeezing with some force, until both boys looked at her, and reached up to doff their hats respectfully. Finally, after another half‑minute or so, she released them and calmly stepped back a step or two.

Both boys immediately bowed deeply, though quite clumsily and stood hat in hands, awaiting their punishment.

To the boy's surprise, but not Darcy's, she simply raised her finger, pointed to the Southwest and kept it up, while staring the boys down.

Both boys saw her finger, looked down in apparent contrition, then walked back to their sleeping areas, picked up their coats and boots, turned around and walked out the door.

Giving a slight smirk, Elizabeth carried on with her rounds. Darcy saw her approach each villager, all of whom showed her at least as much respect as they would show him, and probably more. This did not distress him in the least. If he wanted their respect in future, he reckoned he would either have to work at it, or cheat and try to get by on what Elizabeth garnered.

He saw when she approached the builder and was a bit surprised when she pulled a billfold out of a hidden pocket in her dress, passed it to him, and just shook his hand. That was apparently the transaction. He was beginning to appreciate the idea that people always treated him in his business dealings out of a combination of respect and fear. He always tried to emphasize the former by being scrupulously honest in his dealings but was willing to fall back on the later if necessary. He was beginning to get the idea that the same people would treat Elizabeth well just because they could conceive of the idea of doing differently. It was a sobering, but elevating thought.

* * *

A half‑hour later, Elizabeth and Darcy found themselves at the front door, donning outerwear. The rain had stopped for days so there was a good chance they could walk at their leisure wherever they liked without too much mud. Darcy was reminded of when Elizabeth trekked three miles in the mud to tend Jane and reckoned that mud would not be an impediment anyway… unless of course she judged the overly fastidious Fitzwilliam Darcy to be unable to keep up with her, which was not an unnatural surmise.

"My lady, if you would allow me the pleasure of choice, I believe I have a path you would enjoy."

Elizabeth said, "Why is there no phrase like 'my gentleman', or 'my lunkhead'"

Fitzwilliam laughed along with her, saw Elizabeth nod and take his arm, and was happy with the result.

They walked along for nearly an hour to get to their destination. They could not really talk about the commonplaces with so much to be said, but neither could either start on the big conversation that both knew the rest of their lives would revolve around. Instead, they both spent the time alternately telling their tales, which involved quite a lot of gasped exclamations.

"Jane said WHAT? Jane Bennet made you cry? A grown man and master of an estate crying like a baby. I bet that was uncomfortable."

Much to her delight, Fitzwilliam laughed in a self‑deprecating way, and said, "I am truly quite jealous, now. You women can cry at your leisure and nobody thinks aught of it, but a man cries, and it seems shocking."

"Not SEEMS shocking. It IS shocking!"

Both laughed at it, and then the story of the discussion in the carriage did in fact leave both of them in tears.

"Elizabeth, you do realize you are the first horsewoman?"

Nodding her head in embarrassment, she said, "Well, perhaps… Where is your high‑horse anyway? We may need him to get back to the house."

He laughed, in relief, and asked somewhat carefully.

"Elizabeth, Jane tells me you sometimes see 'visions' of people giving you advice. She recommended we not discuss it in company as it makes us sound a bit mad, but I should tell you that I have the same thing. My crying was as much about seeing my mother, who looks more like Jane's sister than you do, standing between her and Miss Taylor looking disappointed. She tried to warn me, but I did not listen."

She dragged him to a stop to look at her, and said, "Perhaps… well… perhaps your mother was not _chastising_ you but _preparing you_ for what fate had in store. It sounds crazy, but sometimes I think the gods of chance have been playing games specifically designed to put us together."

"And do you object to their interference?"

Elizabeth looked internally for some time, and said, "No, I do not. I would not trade my experience for anything else in the world. How many women like me have been allowed the privilege of proving their worth without first being bound in matrimony?"

"How many, indeed. If your worth was ever in doubt, which it was NOT, then today's display would have dispelled it from the most hard‑hearted observer. By the way, what did you do with those boys?"

"Why, you saw it. I just extended my finger to the Southwest."

"Which means?"

She sighed, and said, "You might find me less pleasant than you thought if I tell you."

"UNLIKELY!"

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Well, as you well know, the Leeson pig farm is that way. I warned those boys before that behavior will not be tolerated. They are on their way to work slopping, feeding and butchering pigs for the next week, from dawn to dark. Their fathers will insure their compliance. Each day at sundown for a week, they have to bring straw and make a bed under a small overhang in the pigpen and sleep there for the night."

Fitzwilliam laughed uproariously, while Elizabeth vacillated between embarrassment and laughter, with laughter being the clear victor.

They discussed the arrangements that had been made for those that had died at Pemberley, and the current state of the Measles victims. It seemed likely that Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper and Mr. Nelson, the butler, would make complete recoveries. Elizabeth was unhappy that she had not tended them. She thought she could have done so safely but had been overruled by the senior members of the staff who did not want to take any chances.

Fitzwilliam told about the last assembly in Meryton, which left Elizabeth laughing uproariously.

Elizabeth said, "You realize Anne is probably taken now. She could look a hundred years and not find a better man than Jason."

Curiously, Fitzwilliam asked, "So why have none of the Bennet girls snapped him up?"

"Good question… well, to tell the truth he has always seen all of us in a fraternal way, and it is hard to dislodge an idea like that. Then of course, none of us have any fortune whatsoever, and he IS a third son. He would double Rosings income though."

Fitzwilliam snorted, and said, "Such low ambitions. I am certain you are just being polite. He could do that by just refraining from some of my aunt's more ostentatious displays."

Elizabeth laughed, and agreed it was so.

"You know your aunt will never accept him."

"Yes, but Anne has… well…"

She looked at him encouragingly.

"This experience has changed Anne as much as it has changed me. Richard and I have been trying to get her to break out of a self‑imposed exile for years, but well… forcing her always seemed a bad idea. She met Jane, and something… well, something fit. They make each other braver. I will not pretend to understand it, but since my entire responsibility consists of having enough sense to stay out of their way, I believe I can manage it."

The lady laughed, and let the subject go for a moment. She thought she probably _should_ feel a stab of jealousy at being so easily replace in Jane's affections, but the very idea was anathema.

After an hour, they arrived and Fitzwilliam said, "Here we are, my lady."


	35. Orchard

Upon arrival, Elizabeth found herself in a location that was nothing short of a wonderland. They were in an orchard with what looked like apple, cherry and peach trees, many of which were in wonderful bloom. The flowers were so much more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. Longbourn did not have fruit trees, so she had not grown up with them. Some blooms had fallen on the ground, leaving a carpet through the soft grass. The trees were of different shapes and sizes, the blossoms were of alternating colors, and it was quite the most beautiful site she could recall.

"This is my mother's favorite spot on the estate. In fact, my father has had a man dedicated to this orchard for most of his life."

Elizabeth just looked around in wonder, and then leaving Fitzwilliam to his own devices, she ran like a little girl from tree to tree, examining every aspect from every direction. She found her bonnet restricted her vision entirely too much, so without a thought for propriety, she pulled it off and threw it carelessly on the ground. Stewart would make her take another one the next day anyway.

Fitzwilliam just watched her in wonder and cursed the day he had decided the master of an estate had to always be a sober and severe gentleman. It shamed him to admit it, but both Richard and Bingley had given him much better examples of a good way to live, but he had preferred his own council, though in truth that amounted to torturing himself in punishment for his own crimes. The circularity of the downward spiral was not lost on him, but with a solution staring him in the face, he thought that it would be worth enduring years of deprivation for just one such display from the woman holding his heart.

"Come join me, Fitzwilliam. Are you planning to instruct our children in how to play properly by handing them a Fordyce?"

There it was. Elizabeth stopped stock still, almost shocked that it had come out of her mouth and wondering just what exactly she had just done.

Fitzwilliam, seeing her consternation did the only thing a sensible man could do. He took off his hat, let out a loud WHOOOOPPPP that scared a group of birds into confused flight, and ran. He took off his topcoat and threw it on the ground, ran across the orchard at a full sprint, and picked up Elizabeth to spin her around and around and around. Within a few seconds, both were laughing and crying all at the same time, and it was some minutes before he was willing to release her. Even then, he demanded a kiss that would have killed a lesser man before allowing her freedom.

He pulled her towards a bench, that had an engraving.

_** For Anne who loved this garden from George who always sat beside her. **_

Elizabeth stared at the message, and said, "_Some people do spend their whole lives together."_

"Yes, they do. My mother was my father's entire life. When she died, he… well, he just stopped living."

He described a vision of a short conversation he had with his father near the end of his life, and it was almost as if both of them could see the same man standing right in front of them, such was the power of his words.

_≈ Do not fret, Son. I see what you think – that I am not strong enough to bear it – that I am somehow weak because I cannot live without my Anne. Someday, I hope you will meet the woman who will make you understand, will show you that life with your one true love is worth any price, worth any pain, worth anything. Do not worry about me, My Son. I will make you a bargain. I will keep myself going long enough for you to attain your manhood, if you will promise me that when you see the woman that makes your heart sing, you will snatch her up. ≈_

Elizabeth was crying by the end of it, while Fitzwilliam was pensive.

"I did not live up to my end of the bargain."

She reached up, cupped his cheek with her palm, and said, "The negotiation is not over yet, Fitzwilliam. Do not give up so easily."

He snuffled but did not disagree. Instead, he said, "It was all untrue, anyway. When he died, the physician I brought in said that Cancer had been eating the man alive for months or years. He would not have survived, with or without my mother."

"You do not know that, Fitzwilliam. Perhaps the disease had it in for him. Perhaps his loneliness prevented him from fighting the demon when it came, or perhaps nobody is strong enough. It is not for us to spend our lives questioning fate."

Fitzwilliam looked at her carefully, raised one eyebrow, and said, "_Our Lives?"_

Realizing what she had said, Elizabeth pulled off her pelisse, put it on the bench that was still wet with a bit of dew, and said, "Sit, please, Fitzwilliam."

He complied, and she very slowly, and very deliberately sat on his lap, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

Staring at him, she said, "We are taking a very big chance, Fitzwilliam. Is it possible for two people to go from such wildly different feelings to being in love without even once being in each other's presence? Without a single word being spoken to each other? When you caught me this morning, I knew what I wanted, though I was still afraid to admit it to myself. We have spent far less than two hours together since that debacle in Kent. Is that enough time to know our hearts? Is it enough time to be sure?"

Fitzwilliam looked at her, and said, "To be honest, my heart was doing battle with my evil twin for five months, ever since you showed up with mud on your petticoats, and the wind in your hair to tend your sister. My heart has won… definitively. As you said, that awful, prideful, insulting man you met in Hertfordshire and again in Kent may be a part of me, but he is a part that I hope is dead, or at least leashed. _I love you, Elizabeth Bennet._ If you accept me or reject me, I will still love you until my dying breath."

Elizabeth, feeling a rush of tenderness she could not have imagined even a week before, took a moment to gather her thoughts, and to be honest, to play with his hair which was no so conveniently situated.

Finally, she said, "You _hurt_ me at that first assembly, Fitzwilliam. I assume Jane has made you aware of that, and we need not discuss it again. However, I very spitefully used that one exchange to form a prejudice against you, and never even gave you a chance for your good twin to emerge. I took the word of a scoundrel, simply because he flattered my vanity. You were awkward and silent in Rosings, but… but… but…"

She seemed to run out of words, so Fitzwilliam reached up and kissed her cheek, and said, "…but?"

"But, if I am truthful, I must say I both despised you and was fascinated by you in Kent. Parts of me, perhaps only my body, or maybe my passion, was very strongly attracted to you. My prejudice… my first impression… my stubbornness did not allow for any amendment to my opinion. At Netherfield, you treated me with respect… well, except for your failure to quash that horrid woman sharing the house with us. In Rosings, your cousin seemed to take delight in stealing my attention, but…"

She paused a moment, blew out a deep breath, and added.

"…but I could see it hurt you, and I… I… I reveled in the injury. I had no idea what you did to Jane, I was still just feeding my vanity at your expense. Then in your proposal, you pointed out all of my defects, all of my 'inferiority', all of my… well, all of the things that could have made me forgive you right on the spot, because I can tell this."

She stared at his face hard, as if memorizing it to make a marble bust from memory later.

"I left that day because you hurt me a second time. You hurt me more than I would admit to anybody, even myself. However, if I had not already felt some sort of strong, visceral attraction to you, I would have taken you down a peg. You said your cousin took you down a peg or two… well, I would not have been satisfied with two. I would not have stopped until I injured you as badly as you injured me. I would have been vindictive and mean and cruel. I would not have stopped until every possible morsel of affection was lost. I would have done that, because I _knew_, somewhere deep inside, somewhere in the darkness where no light ever penetrates… _I knew I could love you if I simply allowed myself to, and the very idea terrified me."_

He ran his knuckles over the outside of her hair, reached his hand around to cup her ear, with his fingers extending under her hairline and his thumb on her chin, and whispered, _'Could have loved me?'_

She just nodded, and said, "Things happen in life, Fitzwilliam. Couples quarrel, sometimes badly. They make up, sometimes incompletely. Children and fortune and death visit sooner or later. As much as I esteem my parents, they have a marriage where the two together are weaker than they would be apart. I do not want that. I want one where we are more than twice as strong together as we would be apart. I… I…"

He just stared at her.

"I need you to promise me that you will continue to _respect_ me. You can hate me from time to time, but if you respect me, it will be brought back to rights sooner or later."

He thought of all sorts of things he could say, but eventually settled on the simplest.

"I promise!"

"And will you promise to love me until one of us is dead, and then continue to live, even if it is without me. Promise you will not take the coward's way out, like your father, because that makes me responsible for your life even after death."

"I promise!"

She sighed, and said, "Well then, I should probably tell you that somehow, you wormed your way into my heart. _I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun._ But make no mistake, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I DO love you with all my heart! I will be your wife. I will be your Mistress. I will make the same promises I demand of you."

With that, the couple sealed their bargain with a kiss for the ages. Elizabeth thought that it would be a shame to burn down such a pretty orchard, but it would be worth it.

* * *

Some time later, the nervously happy couple had been talking about all of the things newly betrothed and mostly senseless couples talk about, but they finally had to sheepishly admit that it was time to work their way back to practicalities.

Elizabeth looked up and saw a vision of her maternal grandfather sitting in his favorite rocking chair, smoking his pipe, reading a newspaper. She asked him if the paper always told the whole story of an important person, and he laughed uproariously. She vividly described the scene to Fitzwilliam, until she felt like he was standing right beside her seven-year-old self listening to the old man.

_≈ Lizzy Bee, let me tell you something. All of our lives are stories. There are stories we tell ourselves, stories we tell others, stories learned researchers' piece together from evidence, the story of our lives, and the story of our loves. No story is complete, nor is any story accurate. Stories are always made of the most interesting bits of truth, mixed in with the most interesting bits of fiction. It is your job, when you want others to understand the story of your life, to judiciously make sure the 'most interesting' pieces are the ones you want them to be. ≈_

Fitzwilliam seemed confused, and Elizabeth elaborated.

"Do you know what I am frightfully tired of, Fitzwilliam ?"

He laughed, and said, "I have no idea."

"I am tired of being in the _middle_, neither here nor there. For five years now, I have been 'out', meaning not a child but not a grown woman. For the length of our rather odd courtship, I have been stuck in the middle between loathing you and loving you; between an inferior spinster and your wildest dream. For the past fortnight, I have been stuck in the middle between being a visitor, being the mistress, being the sister Georgie is desperate for, being the niece that your Aunt is desperate for… but always in the middle… always neither fish nor fowl. If I go back to Hertfordshire to get married, I will be neither the properly courted daughter to be feted, nor the wife who captured the rich gentleman. If we elope, I will always be in the middle between properly courted mistress and slightly scandalous love affair."

Fitzwilliam had never thought so much on that, any more than a condemned man on the way to the gallows thinks about how clean his haircut is. There were always bigger concerns.

Not knowing what to say, he simply raised his eyebrow, and said, "Lydia warned me that you have this gesture and I would need a new twitch of my own."

The rather silly joke relieved her tension, and she laughed far more than the jest was worth, before continuing.

"Stories… our lives, our place in society, our reputations, our families, our shared history… it is all just stories. My grandfather gave us the right idea."

"Which are?"

"Well, what is a story, but a set of plot elements arranged graciously, with superfluous detail removed, no?"

Still confused, he just nodded.

"Well, here is a story… ALL OF IT ENTIRELY TRUE. You proposed to me in April. I accepted your April proposal. You traveled to Hertfordshire to become more acquainted with my family and obtain my father's blessing. I traveled to the North with some well‑known people of long and trusted association with your family. I took the time to meet both of your aunts and get to know them, both at Matlock and at Rosings. I took the opportunity to know your cousin and your sister. I happened upon a disaster and acted in the way the Mistress of Pemberley should act, but I said nothing about any connection with you before it was properly sanctioned, as that would obviously be improper. I acted as Mistress of this estate, because it was necessary, and I was just assuming the role early. You returned to Pemberley as planned. I could not stay in the house with any sense of propriety after we were betrothed, but nor could I give up the role of mistress with so many depending on me. In desperation, we bought a common license and married publicly in front of fifty villagers and the Pemberley staff, so propriety is satisfied. It was all according to plan, except for a minor scheduling change due to the fire."

Fitzwilliam sat there with his mouth hanging open, and finally sputtered, "You mean… you mean… you… you… wha…"

Elizabeth jumped to her feet, and said, "Come along, Fitzwilliam. Jane will be here by ten. With a common license we will need to be at the church before eleven if we want to be married today. We do not have all day to dawdle. Propriety must be satisfied, and I cannot think of a single way to do that except for a properly sanctioned wedding. Not one of these rush jobs, mind you. A properly sanctioned and planned courtship, occurring over months. It is fortunate for us that the months have already elapsed."

Still stupefied, he stared at her for a minute, and then a small, sly smile appeared on his face, which turned into a grin of legendary proportions.

Without a word, he grabbed her around the waist, swung her around a half‑dozen times, set her down, kissed her strongly enough to set her shoes on fire, then let out a yell of joy and happiness, while she gave him a smile such as had never been seen before in those parts.

With a contented scream that scattered another flock of birds, the happy couple clasped hands, and took off at a run towards Pemberley, towards life, towards love, towards heartbreak, towards children, towards grandchildren, towards great stories and destiny.

They never looked back.

~~ Finis ~~

* * *

_A/N: That is the end of the story as I envisioned it, but I have more sort-of epilogue chapter I'll add tomorrow._

_I would like to point you to another story that I like very much and recommend highly. My wife, Amalia, who you all know as my part time editor, wrote a truly wonderful children's book called **Gordita Grogster and the Magic Bicycle**. You can find it on Amazon, and it's available in unlimited. Just search Amazon for "Grogster". Please give it a look._

_Wade_


	36. Epilogue

_A/N: Well gang, here is an epilogue, although I truly do consider the story finished after the last chapter. Instead of the traditional far-far-future view, I'll show something a bit sooner. I'll also make the epilogue a bit more light-hearted fun to calm you down from the seriousness of the story but be warned. This is just a bit of light-hearted silliness, since I promised you some frivolousness back in the beginning._

_Wade_

* * *

Jane Bennet the Fearsome, smiter of overgrown boys, looked out the window of the carriage in wonder, and said, "Lizzy would love this place if she ever showed up. I can just imagine her first sight of it. She would feel compelled to say something pretentious like, _'I have never seen a place for which nature has done more, or where natural beauty has been so little counteracted by an awkward taste.'_"

Anne and Mary Taylor laughed uproariously.

Mary pulled a very sad, pouty face, and said, "Ah, but then wait until she looked around inside. She would be filled with regrets and heartache. I can imagine her whining with something like, _'And of this place, I might have been mistress!'"_

Anne laughed, and added her own, "If she had arrived before Darcy, she would interrogate Mrs. Reynolds like a French Spy. Of course, that might go either way. Mrs. Reynolds is the housekeeper and has known Fitzwilliam since he was four years old. She loves to sport with tourists, so about half the time she says he is the best master in the world, and the other half, she says he is the worst. It is all the luck of the draw.

Not to be outdone, Jane added, "I wonder how long it will take Fitzwilliam to track her down. I imagine by now he has gathered at least a dozen men to start at Matlock and begin the hunt. She should still be _somewhere_ within a hundred miles.

All three ladies were still laughing uproariously as they came down the hill from the first view. As they came in sight of the house, they saw the most perplexing thing.

Mary spoke what they were all thinking.

"How on Earth did he get so many men in just one morning. There are at least a dozen wagons sitting in the drive, and… does that not look like a bunch of villagers as well. I am also curious why they are loaded with timber and stone. That seems unnecessary unless Fitzwilliam is planning to build gallows to threaten her with if she does not marry him, or a tower to lock her up like a fairytale princess. It all seems so extraneous for hunting down one wayward girl. I should think a horse and a copy of a note to be sufficient!"

Anne agreed with equal confusion, saying, "There are no obvious construction projects here, or in Lambton."

Jane sighed a bit, and said, "This is quite a place, Anne. Is Rosings anything like this?"

"It is gaudier, and much more uselessly fine. I will have to strip a lot of its ornamentation when I redecorate. It is about two thirds the size of Pemberley, and under my mother's management has about a tenth of the net income."

"Ouch!"

The exclamation from Jane would have mortified her a month before, but at that moment, she was just happy she had not cursed in the process.

Mary said, "Yes, Jane. Jason will have his work cut out for him."

Jane and Anne giggled, not entirely certain if Mary was serious or not.

Anne sighed wistfully, which leant some weight to Mary's hypothesis.

* * *

When they came to a stop in front of the house, Anne curiously said, "That is odd! You would think Fitzwilliam would at least come out to greet us."

Mary added, "It is most peculiar indeed. Since he obviously overreacted in his search, perhaps he was just too busy."

As the coach settled, they saw the usual compliment of footmen approaching… or it would be the usual compliment if the usual compliment was triple what was required. Even Anne, a long‑suffering veteran of her mother's over‑exuberance was a bit shocked.

One of the men reached up to open the door, but instead of the step being pulled down, they heard a scream that would wake the dead.

**"Jane!"**

Looking down, all three women were shocked to see none other than Elizabeth Bennet leaning into the coach, yelling at them with a huge smile on her face.

"Oh, Janey! I am so happy to see you. And you as well, Miss de Bourgh… Oh, rats… I shall call you Anne and you shall call me Lizzy and that is that. And Mary… Mary Taylor, it is wonderful to see you again. I have heard all about you. Is it true that you plan to marry Robert Breton sight unseen?"

All three women were somewhat overwhelmed, and then they saw a footman discreetly tap Lizzy on the shoulder, and suggest, "Might I suggest the step, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth laughed, stepped back, and said, "Of course, Thomas. Is this some of the 'initiative' I have been pestering you about?"

Much to the three ladies' surprise, the footman laughed, and said, "Only if 'common sense' and 'initiative' are synonymous."

With an even more peculiar laugh, Elizabeth slapped the man on the upper arm, and said, "No more talking to Francis for you… synonymous indeed!"

The odd little footman smiled, and as Elizabeth stepped aside, he said, "The master would have liked to hand you down, ladies, but he is engaged in critical business. May I have the pleasure?"

None of the three had ever heard that many words in a row from a footman, but the _rules of etiquette_ had been drilled into them from birth, and they naturally got up and offered their hands to be handed down.

Jane came first, and her sister wrapped her in an enormous hug.

Anne followed, and Elizabeth wrapped her in an enormous hug, which apparently was the thing at Pemberley, although Anne had no idea when it became fashionable.

As Mary stepped down, the footman leaned close to her and whispered, _'Breton is going to die.'_, just before Elizabeth wrapped her in another enormous hug.

Mary looked at the footman curiously, but he was just grinning ear to ear, and she surmised she would eventually either understand the odd exchange or not.

* * *

Once the ladies were on the ground, and mostly recovered from the overly exuberant greetings, Elizabeth began.

"I am so happy you made good time. Look at the time. It is barely nine‑thirty, which is quite good. It is quite good indeed. We need to be at the church before eleven, so you will have to hurry. Stewart, this is my elder sister Jane. She will have to share with Margaret, but she has four sisters so it will not kill her. Oh, that did not make any sense. The gust wing is quarantined due to the Measles, and we have injured from the fire in the family wing, and fifty or so villagers in the ballroom, so things are a bit tight, so you will just have to share. Anne can go in with Georgie. Mary can go… well, let us worry about Mary after she meets Robert. Anne, Estelle is Aunt Matlock's maid. She will help you. I believe you know her already. Now hurry-hurry-hurry. You need to be at the church before 11, so there is no time to lose. Stewart, I will show Jane to her quarters. You can direct Anne and then come to help Jane. Mary, it is SO nice to meet you. Robert is just going to die when he sees you. I hope you have a nice dress with you. Jane, you made sure Mary has a nice dress, did you not. Well, never mind. If you do not, Stewart can fix up one of mine… well, actually, it is Georgie's, but Stewart has altered them to fit me, so mine now, and I am quite certain you can get by with one of my dresses. George, please take Anne's trunk to Lady Matlock's room… Anne, which is yours… well, never mind, you can sort it out George. Justin, you are to take Jane… this is my sister Jane, but you already worked that out… well, at any rate, hurry-hurry-hurry, we do not want to be late. Mary, Robert is just going to die… wait, I said that before. Am I making any sense at all? Well, probably not, but there you have it…"

**"Lizzy, Breathe!"**

The shout from Jane startled everyone… including Jane.

"Now, Lizzy. You say we need to be in the church at eleven."

Elizabeth was breathing fast, and said, "Yes, Jane. I am sorry… I sound like a complete flibbertigibbet. You would never believe that I have been acting mistress of this estate for a fortnight."

All three of her friends just stared at her with their mouths hanging open.

"Well, someone had to do it. We had the measles, and of course the fire… oh, you do not know about that. About half of Sudbury burned, so we had to take in 63 villagers, and frankly, at sixteen, Georgie was not quite up to it, so I helped her."

"You what?"

"I helped Georgie… Georgiana Darcy. Naturally, she coerced me into taking the mistress role, so I did it, and then Lady Matlock came, but she left me in charge, and then Fitzwilliam came home, and he left me in charge, and here we are. Simple, really!"

"But… but… but…"

Between the three horsewomen, they could make a sensible reply, and were still staring at her when an attractive young lady of about sixteen appeared, running from the house without the slightest pretense of propriety.

"Lizzy, are you planning to stand around all day. We do need to get to the church."

Elizabeth startled as if lit on fire, and just started speaking, when Jane said, "Calm down, Lizzy. First things first. When do we have to be at the church, and how far is it?"

Elizabeth calmed down only marginally when Georgiana butted in.

"Put on the face, Lizzy. That always works."

The three horsewomen looked on in puzzlement, then watched in astonishment as Lizzy stood up straight, stopped fidgeting, put her hands properly clasped in front of her, and apparently grew six inches taller.

"Thank you, Georgiana. I cannot account for my…"

Georgiana laughed, turned to the horsewomen and said, "Please forgive my sister, Ladies. She has been wound up tight as a spring for a fortnight, and of course, she is going from 'acting' mistress to 'actual' mistress in the course of a morning, so she should be allowed a bit of fidgeting."

Jane said, "Explain that term, if you will… Oh, and I presume you are Miss Darcy."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Well, this is fun… Oh, and forget about changing clothes. What you have on is fine."

She turned to two footmen, and said, "Johan, Luke, please have warm water, soap and towels brought to the anteroom by the green parlor. We shall refresh ourselves and leave from here."

In a muddle, the three remaining horsewomen all spoke at the same time.

Jane said, "Leave, to where?"  
Mary said, "How far is the church?"  
Anne said, "What is an 'actual' mistress?"

Elizabeth said, "Oh yes, I am not helping your confusion very much, and I fear, for at least one of you, it is about to increase immeasurably, so I had best get on with it. I have been acting as mistress here for about a fortnight, and I daresay I have done adequately."

Georgiana dignified that remark with a scoff worthy of Lydia, and said, "Lizzy has such a horrible vocabulary. She thinks the word 'adequately' and 'phenomenally' mean the same thing."

Elizabeth glared at her, but continued, "Well, then Fitzwilliam came home last night, then I bumped into him in the corridor, so we resolved all our differences, decided to get married today and kissed each other within an inch of our lives… well, not necessarily in that order."

All the horsewomen and Georgiana just stared at her.

Elizabeth somewhat sheepishly said, "More detail than necessary?"

Anne said, "You think?"

Elizabeth smiled, and said, "At any rate, weddings have to happen before eleven o'clock, so we are off to the church in Lambton. It takes about twenty minutes to get there, so we had better get a move on."

"Miss Bennet, (well, Miss Bennet for another hour), have you been telling tales."

All the new arrivals looked at a very handsome man who had walked up behind her and bowed.

Elizabeth said, "About time, Breton. Poor Mary has nearly faded away. Mary, meet Robert Breton. Mr. Breton, Miss Mary Taylor."

Elizabeth looked at the pair to see how well first impressions were going and found that they were going well… very well indeed. Just as an experiment, she extended her hand flat and tried waving it in front of the stablemaster, but it was insufficient to gain his attention, so ignoring all rules of good society she pinched him, with nothing more to show for her efforts. She reckoned that a gunshot would be required.

Just in case he was listening, she said, "Mary, I remember you from Uncle Gardiners. I have been telling Mr. Breton all about you, and Fitzwilliam has been singing your praises all morning. I assume with a month of time on his hands, my betrothed has been filling you with stories about Breton's heroics, his daring and his penchant for dragging my thoroughly innocent man into trouble untold."

Mary and Breton just started laughing, and finally, Mary asked, "Did you really cry for a week when your favorite hound died."

Breton chuckled and said, "I am afraid Darcy exaggerates. It could not possibly have been more than six days. Six and a half at most."

Mary smiled the most brilliant smile Elizabeth had ever seen, and that was saying something, being sister to Jane Bennet. She said, "Good enough for me, Mr. Breton."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Well, then! That went about as I expected. Now, we really do need to get washed up and to the church for my wedding. We do not have all day. Breton, will you be watching the wedding from the outside or the in?"

Mary and Breton's eyes raised practically to their hairlines.

Elizabeth said, "Oh, sorry. I get ahead of myself. Outside, then."

**"NO"**

Both members of the newly formed couple shouted at the same time, and Elizabeth raised one eyebrow to Breton.

Naturally, he dropped to his knee and said, "Miss Mary Taylor. We have only just met, but considering how wordy our common acquaintances are, I would say we know each other as well as most couples courting for some months. Your beauty nearly knocked me over on first sight, my heart practically hammered out of my chest, and while this may seem somewhat impetuous, I would ask you to honor me with your hand in marriage. Have no fear. We shall be friends. We shall be lovers. We shall be passionate. We shall be happy. I shall allow nothing else, to my last dying breath, and I believe you would not either."

Had he been able to see anything else, he would have found copious tears among all the local horsewomen, maids, masters of the estate who had appeared from nowhere, and of course all the footmen, who were not crying, but all had problems with dust in their eyes… probably a delayed reaction to the fire.

Mary smiled, and said, "You had me at six and a half days. Yes, may we get on with it. Mr. Darcy, can the parson handle two ceremonies before eleven?"

Darcy laughed, with a full_-_throated laugh that nobody had ever quite heard before, and said, "By an odd coincidence, I happened to buy two common licenses this morning, just in case."

Quite by surprise, everyone heard a noise coming from much higher, "Kind of stingy of you, Mr. Darcy. You are one short."

Everyone looked up at a man sitting on a scraggly looking but probably adequate horse, doffing his hat to the ladies before dismounting.

Everyone looked up in shock, until Elizabeth Bennet-soon-to-be-Darcy said, "Why, Jason Goulding, what are you doing here?"

"Same as you, Lizzy… well, I will if my suit is successful."

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "You will have to be more specific, Jason. Which type of suit, and, to be honest, there are quite a number of single ladies present, so I fear you will have to be specific."

**"Bite your tongue, Lizzy Darcy!"**

Everyone got a good laugh at the reply from Miss Anne de Bourgh.

She finally turned to the horse, and said, "Well, since you are already on that horse, and Lambton is five miles away, you had better lift me up. We can do the formalities on the way."

With a big laugh, Jason reached down for his lady, Darcy jumped on his horse and reached down for his lady, Breton jumped on his horse (with considerably more aplomb than Darcy) and reached down for his lady, and with a laugh they kicked the horses and raced off towards Lambton.

Jane just stood there with her mouth hanging open for a moment, and said, "Are the other witnesses there already?"

Georgiana laughed and said, "Seventy villagers from Sudbury, and probably another fifty from Lambton. It should be sufficient."

Jane laughed, and said, "What say you, Mr. Wynn. Do these horses have five more miles in them?"

The Darcy coachman laughed, and said, "The lads and I would carry you there personally if necessary, Miss Bennet, but they are fine.

With a smile and a laugh, Jane Bennet (still formidable, though a bit rattled) grabbed her soon to be sister Georgiana's hand, yanked her over to the coach which was still only three feet away, threw her inside, jumped in beside her and yelled.

"Let us not delay. We have a triple wedding to attend. You do not see one of those every day, and if we delay any longer, it is likely to be a quadruple by the time we get there."

With a crack of the whip, and a "HO!" from the coachman, the Darcy coach, loaded with two very demure and polite ladies, and the six maids who jumped in at the last second, and the eight footmen who jumped on top left at a run to see the wedding of a lifetime.

~~~ Finis ~~~

* * *

_A/N: For those that hated my new nickname for Elizabeth (most of you apparently), you are no doubt already scarred for life, but you can relieve your suffering by knowing I went back and changed the last 4 chapters to get rid of it. If you wish to relieve your PTSD, go back and reread from Chapter 32._

_For those confused by the timeline (the second most frequent complaint), be assured it all works out, but you must follow the clues a bit. With my stories, it's best not to worry too much about timing as it will just vex you. I write and post as I go, so it's quite common for me to go back and forth, or to end up with a slight mess, or worse. That's the price of reading in real‑time as I write. If you think this was bad, read my most popular story, __The Cliffs of Hertfordshire__, which was far more confusing. (BTW, I am preparing TCoH for publication, and the new version has the timeline fixed up)._

_I deliberately introduced a bit of a Regency inaccuracy for the purposes of dramatic tension. I'm surprised only one reviewer called me on it. The Age of Majority isn't as magical as I portrayed it here. It was the point where a woman could marry __without__ her guardian's permission, but that's about it. Also, there was no __legal__ way for a father to force a marriage in Regency England, no matter how often Regency writers use the idea for effect. There were __practical__ ways, since they could easily offer the child the option of marrying or starving (I have a WIP called "The Corrupt Plan" where that happens), or he could lock her in her room until she complied, beat her, or threaten something else (such as forcing a sister to take your place), but __legally_,_ nobody was supposed to be married without the bride's consent, and lack of consent was one of the few valid justifications for an annulment. After twenty‑one, he would still have the same power._

_This has been my longest‑running JAFF project so far. I wrote the first 4 chapters in Nov 2017, so just over 2 years. I started it about the same time as __The Wedding Afternoon__._

_The original idea was sort of a cross between the thought balloons from comic strips and the typewriter device in Moulin Rouge. The original was mostly internal thoughts, which mostly just came out sounding crazy, but then I triggered on the idea of the ghosts. It turns out __all__ my characters are about half‑crazy. Since I'm a software developer, that's about average. _

_As with most software projects, I ended up with budget, schedule and scope creep. The original plan had almost nobody in it but Elizabeth, Darcy and some minor characters. It was planned for about 50k words. It finished about 110k, or about double my plan and 80% of the size of canon._

_From the original concept, I kept the first line, 'If you cannot say something nice, say nothing at all!', which was a favorite of __my__ mother (it hardly ever worked, but she did try), and the line, 'You will do no such thing!' with respect to allowing Darcy to make a new proposal. _

_The key theme that survived beginning to end, despite a ton of side‑stories and complexity being added, was that Darcy should be able to get his growth post-Hunsford without Elizabeth burning his ego to the ground; and Lizzy should improve her opinion of the man through learning more about him. Basically, I wanted them to work out that they were mostly in love without having a single substantive conversation after Hunsford. In the original idea, Elizabeth's opinion was softened by hearing about Darcy from the women in his life (Lady Matlock, Mrs. Reynolds and a few more), and Darcy did something similar with her relatives._

_Several reviewers asked for more of the bad‑ass Jane. I have a sort of half‑formed idea for a story about Jane with a title of "Rules of Espionage", but I don't have the vaguest idea if it will ever go anywhere or not._

_I am embarking on another good-sized project in my work life now, so there will probably only be short stories and one‑shots for a few months. I do have some novels in the works, including the one I've been working on the longest (since 2016). I hope to start publishing that sometime in the summer. In the meantime, I have a million little one‑shots in mind, so I hope you will content yourself with them._

_Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, especially the critical ones that help me hone my craft._

_I wish everyone a happy and prosperous 2010's decade._

_Wade_


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